


God Eater

by Goativa



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Lovecraftian, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goativa/pseuds/Goativa
Summary: Goro Akechi has been having some strange dreams lately.  Odd, shadowed dreams.  It all starts with a sunken cathedral.





	1. Dreaming Deep

Goro is dreaming, he knows this. 

Where he stands at the foot of a sunken, inverted cathedral can only be something conjured up by his subconscious. He’s probably lucid dreaming, he thinks as he stares down the gaping maw of the doorway. It’s happened a few times before but only briefly before he wakes up. Goro wonders how long it’s going to take for him to wake up this time. His movements are sluggish as he steps through the water, hair floating around him, little clouds of sand rising then lazily falling with each footstep. There’s something pulling him forward like a string tied to his chest and incessantly tugging. Not strong enough to take control away but enough to be annoying. Enough for it to pique his curiosity. He has control of this dream, Goro knows this, so there is no fear in his heart.

It’s hard to see exactly what is depicted in the cathedral’s facade but Goro’s wine-red eyes can make out grinning demons, cackling skeletons, and other similar ilk. There’s one that catches his attention: a demon with its hands pressed together in prayer, head tilted up to stare down the angel with an arrow pointed right between its eyes.

Staring at it too long makes Goro feel uncomfortable.

Sunken in the muck and sand, towers no doubt buried deep, the doorway isn’t difficult to reach. Akechi places a hand on the black archway and steps inside. For some reason Goro’s limbs feel lighter once he’s in the building. 

Odd dream logic. 

Arching columns root themselves to the ceiling at Goro’s feet, branching geometric patterns fractaling into a dizzying array on the ceiling he stands upon. 

Craning his head up? Down? Up towards the floor. The columns reform into stronger structures and support the floor, rows and rows of pews flowing down the aisles and leading to a pulpit with an altar. A dim light from the outside filters through stained glass windows. Goro’s surprised that the glass has managed to last this long so deep down.

How does he know they’re deep? Goro knows they’re deep, deep underwater.

How…? The answer comes like a ripple across his mind. Dream logic, of course.

Nothing is real, this is just a dream, Goro knows this.

Turning his attention to the stained glass he admires the faint light as it casts rippling colors onto the ceiling. Each tall window is dedicated to a different hue but whatever is supposed to be depicted in the windows is too abstract for Goro to figure out. He steps into the light, lifting his palms up as if to hold the swaying reds, oranges, and yellows. 

The tugging returns, reminding him to move on. 

Right, he has to go...go somewhere.

Goro abandons the lights and walks forward, along the vaulted ceilings and closer to the altar. It was then that Goro stills in the crossing, the dark halls of the transepts twisting so he couldn’t see what lay to his left or right. 

Stuck in this metaphorical crossroads Goro hesitates. Questions begin to bubble up in his mind.

Where, exactly, is he going? What is he doing…? Why does he know the answers to these questions but no matter what, when he tries to focus, the answers squirm out of his grasp?

A high-pitched ringing starts to build in his ears the longer he thinks about it, a migraine building to accompany the horrible noise. Goro clutches his head and sinks to his knees, are dreams supposed to hurt like this?

They’re not, Goro knows this.

The pain and tinnitus reach a fever pitch, his nails sink into his scalp as he curled up tighter. Make it stop, Goro thinks to himself, make it stop. This is his dream, he’s in control! Goro knows this. Except...he’s not so sure anymore.

A feeling of weightlessness overtakes him as the noise and pain teeters on the edge of overwhelming. 

Then Goro is violently thrust back into the waking world, half-slumped off his bed and grasping desperately at his sheets. 

He blinks and looks around, taking in his minimalist room and the moonlight filtering through his closed blinds. Running a hand through his messy hair Goro tries to remember what exactly woke him up. But when he tries to think about it the more his dream fades. He was somewhere underwater? Thinking about it isn’t going to deal with the headache that’s sunk its claws into his skull. Pushing himself up and shuffling to his bathroom the sleepy man snags some painkillers and swallows them down. 

Goro doesn’t have time to think about weird dreams, probably a nightmare, he has classes tomorrow.


	2. Upon the Canvas

Goro doesn’t dwell on the dream as he gets ready for the day, he has more important things to worry about. Getting to class at a reasonable hour being the most pressing. Kosei University prides itself on “producing well-rounded adults” which means everyone is forced to take a certain number of hours outside of their chosen major.

The idea that Goro is a well-rounded, well-adjusted adult makes him laugh. At least he doesn’t have to make TV appearances as much anymore.

This is how Goro Akechi finds himself outside the Fine Arts building when his major is Criminal Justice. At first he’d been annoyed but now...he finds himself enjoying it, taking it as a break from reading dry law and analyzing court cases. And, it was how he met his current roommate. 

“Good morning,” a deep voice catches his attention when he steps into the studio. 

Goro spots Yusuke Kitagawa at an easel with his giant newspaper sketchbook open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and with charcoal already staining his hands.

“You’re in here early,” Goro notes, rolling up his sleeves and removing his gloves. His current class is an Independent Study course, allowing Goro an incredible amount of freedom which he finds himself enjoying.

Yusuke shakes his head and swipes the charcoal along the paper, “I had a terrible night’s sleep and woke up before my alarm,” he let out a displeased sigh, “I decided to come in early, seeing as I wouldn’t be falling back asleep.”

“You too?” Goro asks absently, reaching for his own large sketchbook to start warming up. He only gets a hum of agreement before they settle into comfortable silence. Just another thing he likes about Yusuke, he doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence. 

Goro finds his gesture drawings transforming into vague wings. Flexing, stretching, showing off feathers. He can’t find rhyme or reason why they keep transforming into wings, but they’re just gestures to get him ready to work on his current project so he doesn’t dwell on it. Speaking of his current project, it’s probably time to remind Yusuke to actually work on his project instead of getting distracted. He can’t have his roommate failing. Finding someone else would be a nightmare. 

“Kitagawa,” Goro calls out, the taller man has a smear of charcoal on his cheek, but Yusuke doesn’t look up. 

Sighing, Goro meanders over to Yusuke, intending to tap on his shoulder to snap him out of his single-minded focus. But when he sees what Yusuke is sketching out Goro freezes. 

An upside-down cathedral, pitch-black doorway yawning wide, that feels too familiar. Quick flashes of his dream flicker through his mind’s eye the longer he stares at the picture.

“Yusuke...” Goro says quietly, which is enough to make him still, halfway through drawing a demon on its facade, “what is that?”

“It’s something I saw in a nightmare,” Yusuke replies, ever-casual, “I was struck by its strange architecture and I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since.”

Why is seeing that underwater cathedral so unnerving? It’s not as though the idea of a cathedral underwater is a unique motif. Surely, their subconscious minds have drug up these ideas from media they’ve consumed. Dreams are just piecemeal information put together by their sleeping brains. This means nothing. 

“As nice as that is,” Goro says, swallowing against the thickness in his throat, “we have to get back to work on our projects. We can’t have a repeat of last semester.”

Yusuke had nearly worked himself to death trying to finish up his project in the tailend of the semester. Goro had to pick a passed-out Yusuke up off the floor more than once.

Yusuke let out a self-depreciating chuckle, “as usual, Akechi, you’re right.” He flips his sketchbook closed and Goro relaxes. 

“Of course,” Goro says with a pleasant, if slightly smug, smile. “Now, I’d like your opinion on how to better display my chosen motif...”

Now thoroughly distracted discussing their projects the thoughts of cathedrals and the depths disappear. Coursework is more than an adequate distraction, especially since he has to keep his grades in top shape to keep his scholarship. 

He’ll be damned if he asks Shido for anything. Goro had burnt that bridge with reckless, delighted abandon. 

So Goro dives head first into his studies, taking studious notes during lectures, tapping away at a computer, and meeting up with his partner for a class project later in the afternoon. 

His project partner, Makoto Nijima, is his friend-slash-academic rival. It originally started off as a heated rivalry to one-up one another in all things academic, with snide comments flung back and forth. But the more classes they shared it slowly became a mutual respect. Of course the rivalry was still there but now it was friendlier, less vicious. Case in point, any time they had a group project they would immediately gravitate towards each other, trusting that the other would actually do their half of the work. 

They were giving a presentation on a particularly complicated historic case and how it set precedent in the coming years. Sequestered away in a quiet corner of the library Makoto brought her findings and Goro pulled his own out so they could start working. 

The two are in the middle of discussing how to make their presentation flow better when Goro is surprised by a yawn. Makoto chuckles quietly.

“Did Yusuke keep you up last night with another ‘rush of inspiration’?” She asks with a knowing smile. 

“Not this time,” Goro replies, blinking away the sleepiness in his eyes, “I didn’t sleep well last night, is all.”

Makoto gives him a look, Goro can practically feel her dark eyes analyzing him. 

“We’ll finish up in an hour,” Makoto says definitely and while Goro mutters a disgruntled, “I’m fine,” he knows that arguing with her is a fool’s errand. 

They still get more than enough work done, putting them slightly ahead of their project schedule, and Goro bids his classmate goodbye. 

Dinner is a companionable silence watching a TV show with Yusuke and instant noodles. They’re both on scholarships, which pay for a lot but they save money when they can. At least they can agree on what to watch.

When Goro does eventually go to bed, he expects to get a good night’s sleep. After all, there’s no reason for him not to. Just an ordinary night for Goro Akechi.

As he curled up in bed and let sleep overtakes him, Goro thinks he hears the sound of waves crashing. Huh, the sleepy man thinks, Yusuke must be watching that Blue Planet documentary again. Goro sinks into his mattress...and sinks, and sinks, and sinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank pastel_didactic for letting me yell about this AU at them.


	3. Bottomless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ambience for the dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppiGTLqfaWc&feature=youtu.be)

Goro’s dreams take him back to the cathedral. 

This time, he finds his feet on the floor. His brown hair sways in the water as he looks around. Is he still upside down? Is he right side up? Looking back towards the arched doorway reveals that the cathedral is still inverted; a little bank of sand filters from the door onto the ceiling. Therefore, Goro knows he’s walking on the floor upside down. The whole thought process makes his insides squirm as he tries to wrap his brain around it. He should be feeling some kind of vertigo, nausea but he’s perfectly fine. It doesn’t feel like there’s any force keeping him affixed to the floor. 

Just as his thoughts take a dizzying turn a wave of calm rolls through him in the form of a realization. He’s dreaming, of course it doesn’t make sense. Dreams never make sense; Goro knows this.

With that sense of calm lapping at his mind Goro proceeds down the nave, the sound of his shoes clacking against the marble floor muffled by the water. He climbs the steps of the altar, dim light swaying through the stained glass windows and highlighting the words carved into the floor.

**“When a god plays naughty, whose job is it to punish them?”**

Goro tilts his head as he analyzes the words. A riddle? Even in his dreams, he can’t help himself as he thinks on it. 

“Another god…?” Goro muses aloud, little bubbles floating up from his lips, “or maybe something darker? A demonic lord, perhaps.” 

At that there’s a low groaning, reminding Goro of whale songs. It sinks into his bones and rattles him to his core. It feels older, far older than what a whale could produce. Immediately his fight or flight response kicks into overdrive. He’s panicking and he doesn’t understand why. 

The marble floor parts beneath his feet, a veil of bubbles rushes out and reveals a void. Goro stares into the depths as he sinks down into the darkness, breath caught in his throat. 

It gets dark, darker, and darker still. 

Somehow, Goro can still see. It feels like someone has inverted the colors on a picture; black and white mingle with colors that seem so very wrong but still create a cohesive image. 

The images Goro sees are not pleasant. It starts off like Dante’s Inferno given life, pictures of demons and hellfire; nothing too unfamiliar to Goro considering his tastes in literature. But the deeper (Goro assumes he’s going deeper) he goes the stranger the depictions become. 

The eyes become more numerous, bodies twist and warp; between the pictures the brick and mortar of the cathedral starts to look more...organic. Goro’s eyes begin to ache if he lingers on one depiction for too long. 

A welcome distraction comes in the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet. It’s a staircase, a spiral staircase leading deeper into the abyss. He can’t see the bottom but Goro refuses to peer down there. What was that Nietzsche said?

If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you.

Goro has a sinking feeling that it will become more literal than originally intended.

And so he goes down, down, down. 

The pressure of the depths starts to settle along Goro’s shoulders, squeezing his lungs and making each breath a chore. Why is he filled with the absolute_ need _ to see what’s down there? What’s even waiting for him down there? Even as these and more questions swirl around his mind Goro’s feet carry him lower. 

The descent is starting to get monotonous when Goro steps on something. It slips out from under his foot and starts to clatter down the steps, nearly causing Goro to fall. He’s seized by the urge to chase after it and so he races down the steps, only catching a white blur as it spins and twirls off each step. 

Finally it rattles to stop, stairs evening out into a landing of sorts. Goro scrambles to reach it, whatever it is. 

He grasps at it with both hands. It’s a white mask with dainty black detailing around the eyeholes. It feels smooth and slightly cool to the touch as he traces a finger along one sweeping edge. Porcelain, Goro wonders. Bone, a suspicious part of his brain murmurs.

_ Put it on _, his mind traitorously whispers. Goro shakes away the thought, instead focusing on inspecting this new curiosity.

** _Put it on_ **, it repeats in his mind. The thought winds around his brain and squeezes as if trying to wring out all rational thought. He can’t get rid of the thought now, invading every crevice of his mind.

** _Put it ON_ **, Goro’s hands shake. He does and doesn’t want to put it on. He’s terrified of what will happen when that cool material touches his face, but he’s powerless to stop his arms from moving.

** _PUT IT ON_ **. Goro’s whole body is trembling as it fights with itself. Finally Goro wins out with a yell and throws the mask down into the dark, a part of him screams to dive after it.

He wakes in a cold sweat, gasping for air as he jolts up in bed. Goro scrambles out of bed and rushes to his desk, whipping out a spare notepad and snatching up a pen. He writes like a man possessed, scribbling down any little detail he remembers before they wash away in the morning light. 

The last thing he does is draw that mask. It looks so innocent when it’s just on a piece of paper yet the empty eye holes send a chill down his spine.

Goro drops the notepad back onto his desk and collapses unceremoniously back onto his bed. Honestly, what does it take to get some good sleep around here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'd like to thank my beta ThePlatypusPrincess for taking their red pen to my works.   
Comments and kudos feed the thing that lives under the cathedral.  
I...might post the next chapter sooner rather than later. Just for pacing purposes I needed this one to stand on its own even though it feels kind of short?


	4. Release Thy Rage

Rain pelting against his window is the backdrop of the world when Goro wakes. It’s a small relief that he could actually sleep in on a Saturday. He only vaguely remembers writing something down the night before. Curious, he stretches and meanders over to his desk.

“What the…?” Goro frowns as he picks up the little notepad, pages crumpled with how hard he had apparently scribbled.

_ Dark. So dark. An underwater cathedral? I feel so calm. It’s not mine, this calm. What is it? Who is it? Are these just dreams? They feel so real. What’s with the mask? I want it, I need it, it’s so important. _

When Goro stares at the doodle of the mask his dream comes crashing back to him with startling clarity. And the one before.It stabs at his mind like a knife. 

This is not how he wanted to start his Saturday.

Goro lets the notepad drop back onto his desk and stomps out into the kitchen, determined to salvage his day off somehow.

“Good morning,” comes Yusuke’s tired voice, Goro looks up to see his roommate slumped against the counter. Yusuke looks, for lack of a better word, godawful. 

“Is it…?” Goro asks in a tired tone, rummaging through their pantry. Yusuke simply shrugs.

“Only time will tell,” and Goro is inclined to agree. 

When Goro turns around with a box of generic cereal in his hands something in his periphery forces him to stop. Yusuke’s easel is set up in their living room, giant newsprint sketchbook displaying his roommate’s late-night sketches.

The entire page is taken up by a familiar mask, swirls of charcoal rolling and churning chaotically behind it. 

The look on Goro’s face must be truly worrying because it catches Yusuke’s attention. The artist turns to follow Goro’s gaze. 

“Ah,” Yusuke lets out a little sigh, “I’ll admit, my sketches have become more...disturbing, lately. I’m having nightmares,” Goro’s throat feels bone-dry but Yusuke continues, “drawing them out seems to help but...last night stuck out to me. With that mask--Akechi?” 

The artist calls out but Akechi has already slammed the cereal down onto the counter and off to his room. He all but shoves his notepad in Yusuke’s face.

“Kitagawa,” Goro’s says, tone hard as Yusuke’s widen as he takes in what’s on the paper before him. Yusuke grabs it from Goro’s hand, eyes darting back and forth. 

“What’s going on?” Goro asks to no one, digging his hands into his hair. He sees Yusuke trembling, hands threatening to crush the little notepad. 

The fear wraps around his neck like a noose, threatening to choke all rational thought. 

** _Fuck that._ **

The thought shatters through his mind as gracefully as a brick through a window. His fear transforms into anger, his hazy panicked thoughts suddenly becoming sharply focused. 

Like hell I’m going to let this control me, Goro thinks as he slides his fingers from his hair, hands unclenching until they relax. Rebellion screams through him as he glares at the canvas, that innocuous white mask watching him. Watch me, Goro thinks back at it viciously, I’m not scared of you.

Somewhere, down in the deep, dead to the powers-that-be, something cracks a smile.

**~**

Despite the lingering rain Goro stalks off to the library. Filled with the type of single-minded determination he hasn’t felt in a long time. The urge to sink his claws into something and rip it open, expose it’s secrets, bear it to his hungry eyes and drink it all in nearly consumes him.

His face must show his inner thoughts because the poor woman working at the library desk startles when he steps inside the library.

So, he slips on a pleasant mask, giving her a sheepish smile and running a hand through his damp hair. It seems to placate her and she goes back to typing away at her desktop.

Going to the general internet had proven useless. It was all too much, any good information was lost in a miasma of bullshit. Too many websites dedicated to fiction or the...unsavory side of the internet. So he had to do some more old-fashioned research.

Right, research. Where to even start? Goro meanders over to a computer, pulling up the library’s search engine. A leather glove settles on his chin as he stares at the empty search bar.

Best to start from the basics, Goro things with a sigh and types into the search bar: Dreams, nightmares, nonfiction, scientific studies.

The list he gets back are...interesting to say the least. Goro has to wade through piles of new age books of dream interpretation before he gets to anything that is somewhat helpful. At least he manages to find something that seems promising: the works for Wakaba Isshiki. It appears that she had several dream studies that were published then compiled into a larger book on psychology. Luckily for him, the library seems to have recently acquired the book.

Since it's the closest thing to a lead Goro has so far, he makes his way through the library to try and find it. As he weaves through the maze of shelves he passes by a small open area, one of the many scattered around for students to use for studying and reading. A book, innocuously left behind, sits on a table. He just gives it a passing glance - _ Cosmic Horror: H.P. Lovecraft and the Mythos Left Behind _.

Goro assumes someone was working on a book report and left it behind so he turns away and focuses on his task. He finds what he needs without much difficulty; it’s a surprisingly thick tome. 

When he ventures back to the table he finds a familiar head of brunette hair bent over the book he saw before.

“Nijima…?” He says, voice full of incredulity. Goro watches her jolt in her seat, seemingly just as startled as he is. More importantly, what was Makoto doing reading a book like that? 

“O-oh, Akechi, so nice to see you,” Makoto recovers from her shock quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear and surreptitiously closing the book in front of her. 

It has the opposite effect of drawing Goro’s attention to it.

“And you as well. Mind if I join you?” Goro asks politely, motioning to the rest of the empty table. Makoto presses her lips together, seeming to weigh her options before she nods. 

“By all means, there’s plenty of room,” Makoto motions to the circular table where Goro makes himself at home a few seats down. 

He makes a show of cracking open his book, flipping through it to actually find the section he needs. Skimming through the pages he watches out of the periphery as Makoto stares down at the cover of _ Cosmic Horror _, hands resting on it hesitantly. Clearly, she doesn’t want to be seen looking into a book like that.

But Goro is not going to let her get away that easily.

“I must say, I didn’t think you were interested in horror,” Goro says casually, looking up to stare Makoto down.

Makoto narrows her eyes. Ah, it’s going to be one of _ those _ conversations, Goro thinks as he smiles, a conversation where words are traded like the swings of a sword.

“I’m not,” Makoto replies primly, “it’s for a personal project.” Her dark eyes slide purposefully down to look at the book before him, “and I didn’t think you were the type to be interested in pseudoscience.”

The tapping of one finger is the only indication that Goro’s pleasant smile is disingenuous. 

“I’ll admit there’s a lot of garbage,” his smile twitches, “but Isshiki’s work is actually well-done.”

Goro’s sharp eyes catch the moment where Makoto’s gaze turns from condescending/amused to serious/curious. Interesting.

“Isshiki...as in Dr. Wakaba Isshiki?” Makoto asks, leaning forward slightly. Goro nods and continues to carefully watch Makoto. 

Her fingers run absently along the spine of her book, “I’ve looked into some of her research, but it’s hard to come by. I didn’t realize they had some of her work.”

“It’s a recent addition...” Goro replies faintly because there’s absolutely no way that his gut instinct is correct. No, it shouldn’t be possible. 

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.

“Nijima...have you been having nightmares, recently?” Goro struggles to keep his voice light and conversational. But the look on Makoto’s face tells him enough, just a peek through the cracks of her own mask. She’s scared, even more so because he knows. 

That rebellious anger returns, Goro’s hands clenching now that a new connection is made. He refuses to allow whatever this is to puppet him like a marionette. He’ll cut the strings. The freedom of falling is better than the safety of being held up by strangling threads.

“Goro…?” Makoto’s worried voice breaks him from his vitriolic thoughts. 

He puts his pleasant, top-tier student mask on once again. “My apologies, I got lost in thought for a moment.”

Makoto slowly nods, “to answer your question, yes, I have been having nightmares. I thought...maybe looking into it would help, give me a sense of closure?” A sigh of defeat leaves her and Goro’s too startled to keep it off his face. 

“I don’t know anymore...” Makoto murmurs, staring down at the false wood of the table. 

Goro isn’t good at comforting but there’s one thing he knows he’s good at…

“Who are you and what have you done with Makoto Nijima?” He tilts his head, voice condescending and full of pity.

And that’s pissing off his rival.

Makoto’s head snaps up, her dark eyes wide. 

“Is this...” he motions to her defeated shoulders, “your true self? Bending down to the whims of your fear?”

He sees the tense line of her jaw and watches as her eyes start to burn with inner fire.

“The Makoto Nijima that I know would never have a spine so weak,” he shakes his head and closes his book, he makes sure his words ooze disappointment, “instead of becoming a police chief, why not consider becoming a doormat instead?”

He makes to stand but Makoto beats him to it, slamming her hands on the table.

“Fuck you, Goro Akechi,” she snarls at him. 

The young detective had never been happier to hear ‘fuck you’. 

“My, my...aren’t you riled up?” He replies with a grin, “nice to see you, Nijima, I felt like I was talking with your shadow just a moment ago.”

Makoto is still towering above him, glaring. 

“Well, I’m sure you have your own research to do. And...I might be mistaken but I feel like our interests will intersect. If you read anything interesting, or relevant, you have my number. I’ll be sure to keep in touch.” 

Goro gathers his book and starts to make his way out of the library, he thinks he hears a quiet “thank you” but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Still, it makes something warm flicker in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally wait about a week between chapters BUT I couldn't resist posting on Halloween!  
So, no new chapter next week but there will be one the week after.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	5. No Longer Coincidence

Set up in a tucked-away corner of the university’s coffee shop, notebook and a cup of steaming coffee at his sides, Goro gets to work. He has to chew through dense scientific studies and parse out esoteric vocabulary, not to mention get back to work on his own coursework before the weekend is up. Not to mention, he has to go to his internship on Monday. So much for enjoying a day off. Then again...he really only has one person to blame for putting this extra work on him. 

But the idea of letting this go, of staying ignorant and placid, is unacceptable.

There’s one passage that catches Goro’s attention.

_ The concept of parallel universes is not new, with the parallel/multi-universe theory being known and discussed for a few decades. What this study proposes is that there may be a way to access a universe connected through our own, henceforth will be referred to as the Metaverse, through a human’s subconscious. By conducting multiple studies into the inner workings of human dreams this study hopes to gather evidence to support Dr. Wakaba Isshiki’s theories. _

It’s surprising that a study like this would be able to obtain funding since it seems so far fetched. This Dr. Isshiki must have been well-respected, Goro drums his fingers against the table and takes a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee. 

_ ...a recurring theme of underwater structures became apparent through this study. More research is needed to determine if this is linked to... _

Wine-red eyes glide across page upon page of research, taking it all in and scribbling relevant notes onto the notepad he brought along. It seemed like this Dr. Isshiki proposed that through dreams, the human subconscious could enter what sounds like a universe built upon the collective unconscious of humanity. Goro is surprised at how fascinated he’s becoming in this subject. 

But as he continues his reading a new startling discovery emerges.

_ The anniversary of Dr. Wakaba Isshiki’s death weighs heavily on the scientific community now as much as it did years ago. Some of her studies were compiled and generously donated to this publication by a close friend in order to honor her memory. _

Goro sits back, staring at the innocuous excerpt. Dr. Isshiki was dead? After what seemed like she was looking into the very same subjects that Goro was investigating? A nauseating thought creeps into Goro’s head: was she plagued with nightmares too?

A delicate ‘ping’ breaks him out of those dark thoughts and when he looks down he’s surprised to find a notification from Makoto.

**[M Nijima] - I found something, where are you?**

**[G Akechi] - At the campus cafe.**

Not five minutes later Makoto is sliding into the seat across from him, pushing that _ Cosmic Horror _ book across the table. There’s a passage that has a little blue sticky note next to it. 

Goro raises an eyebrow at her but she just shook her head, “You’re going to want to read that one.”

_ The God Eater is a particularly monstrous addition to H.P. Lovecraft’s work. A cannibalistic Great Old One, said to be the god of chaos, shadows, and rebellion. The other Great Old Ones and deities of Lovecraft’s work are described as fearing the God Eater, due to its obvious namesake it is the only one said to be able to truly kill another Great Old One, by eating it. Of the few stories it is a part of it is never fully described but it always wears a white mask. The stories usually have it meeting with humans through their dreams in an underwater cathedral… _

Goro doesn’t need to read the rest and shoves it away with a scowl.

“You saw it too, right?” Makoto asks, though it feels more like an interrogation, “The underwater cathedral? The white mask?”

“Yes,” Goro hisses and slides his own research over to her, tapping on the study he found.

Makoto’s sharp eyes quickly take in the information before they widen. Goro’s thoughts are a whirlwind of confusion with this revelation that fiction and fact might be merging together.

“She’s dead?” Makoto’s tone is more confused than anything, “Wait, where’s the rest of her research?”

That snaps up Goro’s attention, “The rest of it?”

“The memorial excerpt at the end here, only mentions that ‘some’ of her research was offered up. That means that there’s a possibility that some of her research wasn't released to the public. Or...”

“Or it was lost. Taken perhaps,” Goro finishes for her, one of his gloved hands coming to rest at his chin. 

This is what Goro appreciated the most about Makoto, the way they could build off one another’s thoughts. That is, when they weren’t at odds with one another.

“Do you think this...Metaverse has something to do with our dreams?” Makoto is the one to voice the thought lingering on both of their minds.

“I’ve already eliminated the possibility that we’ve picked it up from the media we’ve consumed,” Goro says, “Yusuke has also been having these strange dreams.” 

Neither him nor Yusuke have had much exposure to this genre of fiction. Both of them had restrictive childhoods to say the least.

He’d hazard a guess that Makoto has not delved deep in the genre of horror.

“But that seems like a stretch,” she crosses her arms but Goro can see her mind working through her dark eyes.

“What’s more likely? That three people, possibly more, all having nightmares that just so happen to be extremely similar? Almost exactly the same. And that these themes and images just so happen to reappear in a scientific study focusing on dreams? Or, that this is all coincidence and unconnected?”

Taking a deep breath to stop himself from getting worked up, Goro meets Makoto’s gaze.

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

Goro’s chin tilts up, his gaze challenging her skeptical one. The gears keep turning and Goro waits for Makoto to make her decision.

But before she can, two twin ‘pings’ ring out from their phones. Makoto doesn’t look as confused as Goro, she at least has an older sister who might be asking about her. Goro isn’t expecting any type of message. But as he reads what’s on his phone his eyes widen, looking up to see that Makoto wore a similar expression.

They have both been added to a strange group chat.

**[Alibaba] - Why’re you looking into Dr. Wakaba Isshiki?**

**[Alibaba] - Answer me, I’ll just keep re-adding you two to the chat if you try to delete.**

“What’s going on…?” Makoto asks incredulously, looking between Goro and her phone, “Is this a joke? What do we even say?”

“Let’s test the waters,” Goro hesitantly taps out a reply.

**[G Akechi] - We’re interested in her dream studies.**

**[M Nijima] - What do you know about Dr. Isshiki?**

**[Alibaba] - I’ll be asking the questions lady!**

Makoto’s eyebrows nearly disappear behind her bangs. “Talk about childish,” she huffs and Goro has to press his lips together to stop himself from smiling.

**[Alibaba] - Pretty boy, why are you interested in the dream studies?**

Goro tries to subtly glance around the cafe, to see if he can spot their mysterious texter. Clearly they know what Goro and Makoto look like, which doesn’t sit well with him. But there are too many other students to single out one.

**[G Akechi] - We’ve been investigating nightmares we’ve been having.**

There’s an extended pause before the mysterious Alibaba replies.

**[Alibaba] - You too?**

**[Alibaba] - SHIT.**

**[M Nijima] - Wait!**

**[G Akechi] - What do you mean ‘you too’?**

Neither of their messages go through. They simply get an error messages relaying that their texts could not be processed.

“Alright, that’s no coincidence,” Makoto stares down at her phone in bewilderment, “Someone is keeping an eye on Dr. Isshiki’s research.”

“Still...we are at a dead end,” Goro replies in frustration, “With no research to find and someone stonewalling our attempts to dig deeper, where do we go from here?”

He looks up to see Makoto biting at her thumbnail and staring down at their books. 

“We go to bed,” Makoto blurts out in a rush.

“...What?” Goro asks in an absolute deadpan.

“N-no, I mean,” he watches her flounder before she clarified, “We go to sleep and try to investigate from there? If we go to sleep with the express purpose of going to that place then I don’t see why it wouldn’t let us?”

“That...seems logical enough,” Goro tentatively agrees, “It's the best lead we have so far. But, I think one of us should stay awake. Just in case one of us needs medical attention.”

Since Makoto was the only one with a license that responsibility would fall to her. Goro could tell that she didn’t like it but she didn’t argue. 

But this was better than nothing, it gave them both a new wave of determination. They were going to make a plan and solve this, figure out this nightmarish mystery. They tackled it like a battle plan, talking tactics and backup plans until the sun began to set.

With a little melatonin coursing through his system Goro has little trouble falling asleep that night.

He feels the familiar weightlessness of saltwater swaying around him. When he opens his eyes Goro finds himself back on that landing. The seemingly endless staircase stretches above and below just like before, winding into bottomless darkness. 

Last time, he barely made any progress by taking the stairs. And that mask...Goro shudders remembering that feeling that came over him when he touched it.

If the stairs won’t do then...Goro peers over the edge of the landing. As suspected, nothing but darkness stares back at him. But it would surely be faster than taking all these stairs. Goro takes a few steps back. 

Fear would make Goro hesitate. 

“Calm down,” he mumbles and takes a deep, calming breath.

With a running leap he jumps into the unknown darkness.


	6. Cage of Bones

Goro is filled with the familiar sensation of sinking. Just like when the stone floor opened beneath him in the cathedral. Now in freefall he can watch the spiral staircase swirl around him. He doesn’t know where to look, watching the stairs makes Goro dizzy but staring down into the pit below has his stomach swooping out from under him in nauseating vertigo.

So he closes his eyes and waits. 

Suddenly his feet hit solid ground, startling Goro so badly he stumbles. He stares up from whence he came, unable to see the landing he jumped from. There’s no way he sank fast enough to reach the bottom that quickly. He’d only just closed his eyes...right? 

As much as he hates being unable to understand, Goro has to file this under “Dream Logic” once again. He has something else to think about. 

Still staring up Goro takes a hesitant step forward, only to freeze when his foot hits something familiar.

“You,” the young man narrows his eyes down at the white mask. He picks it up of his own volition this time, no strange power compelling his actions. 

He ignores it for the time being to take in his new surroundings. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to see. In front of him stands an archway, roughly hewn from stone with a solid black door sitting snug inside. 

Above the door sits the words: 

** _“A house of the dead is no place for the living, may the mask protect all ye who enter_ ** **.”**

Goro’s finger rubs absently along the mask’s edge, if the building “above” is a cathedral then it stands to reason that this place, “below” would be something like a catacomb or at the very least a mausoleum. 

He looks down to the mask in his hand, frowning. “Was all that before just a bid to protect me?” 

The mask remains silent.

“You want to be put on so bad? Fine!” Goro scowls at it and, with little fanfare and no hesitation, places it on his face.

It stays when he takes his hands away but nothing else happens. Goro would never in a million years admit that he’s a tiny bit disappointed.

But he hears a quiet “click” and the black doors part ever-so-slightly.

Goro isn’t sure what he is expecting to find behind those plain yet ominous black doors but his expectations are blown out of the water all the same.

A hallway completely made of bones. Spines and ribs arch above him as he takes a slow step inside. A mix of alien and human that churns his stomach, pitch black and shining in the low light. 

Did they move? The horrific thought sends him sprinting down the short hall. Are those his footsteps or something else…? 

It’s a relief when Goro skids into the main room, until it very much isn’t. A gaping hole above gives him light but allows him to see so much more. The architecture of bone continues, ribs sweeping up into the ceiling with femurs and tendons supporting spinal columns. It feels like he’s inside the remains of an ancient beast. 

As Goro adjusts to the unnerving room he starts to realize the actual state it’s in. The room is clearly wrecked. Gouges torn through the dark marble floor, hunks of bone missing from the roof above, but most glaring is sitting below the column of light.

A dark stone slab lays in shattered pieces, with a figure slumped over one of the larger pieces.

Goro hesitantly approaches, sharp maroon eyes taking in the sickening details. Gleaming gold arrows riddle the body, mostly protruding from their back. Most glaring of all, a single arrow is pierced through their forehead. They lay in almost a relaxed sprawl, a mop of black, curly hair cushioned on a bent arm. Dried, rust-covered blood coats the upper part of their face and eyes with streaks painting their pale sides as well. The sight could easily be a renaissance painting, Goro thinks faintly, the mix of violence and calm creating something both beautiful and horrific.

The young man has to swallow back something before he can take another step closer. The detective side of his mind immediately kicking into high gear to analyse what is essentially a crime scene. 

“A fight…?” Goro thinks aloud, taking his eyes away from the fallen figure to look around the room once again. He spots a few broken arrows that he missed before, stained with that same rusty dried blood. “Clearly not a fair one. More like an assassination.”

“Maybe,” he turns back to look at the murder scene, “if I get a better look at the murder weapon...” 

His footsteps echo in the dismal room. Closer, closer, and closer he walks towards the corpse.

_ Wait _, his thoughts become muffled as he reaches for the golden arrow protruding from the corpse’s forehead. A gloved hand wraps around the arrow’s feathers, despite looking metallic they crumple softly against Goro’s palm.

_ WAIT _, Goro’s rational thoughts try to push through strange, single-minded compulsion that’s taken over his mind: He needs to remove the arrows.

With a firm grip on the arrow Goro took a steadying breath. 

Three...two..one. 

With a swift yank and a soft wet noise the arrow slides out. Goro’s stomach rolled, somehow the quiet noise was worse than buckets of blood and gore. It felt much more real. 

Staring down at the beautifully-crafted arrow in his hand, he watches little droplets of dark blood float up through the water. The arrow hums in Goro’s hand, sending a strange tingling sensation through his hand despite his gloves. When he looks at the arrow closely he can tell there's a strange writing carved along the side. 

He is so caught up in studying the odd writing that he almost misses it.

A quiet inhale.

Slowly, Goro lowers his hand to stare at what he had assumed to be a corpse. 

“It...can’t be alive,” Goro whispers, eyes snapping up to the arrows practically skewering the figure to the stone beneath it. He waits, watching, and to his horror the eyes begin to twitch. 

It seems to be a struggle, eyelashes crusted with blood only hamper what looks like an incredible effort. When they finally open, an unfocused gold gaze meets Goro’s shocked merlot. 

The person stares at Goro, uncomprehending as they open their mouth. “** _Justice_ **…?”

The word echoes behind Goro’s eyes and ripples down the cartilage in his spine, he curls away from the person like a physical force slammed into him. He drops the arrow in a bid to slam his hands over his ears. Not that it helps. The echoes of that single word still bounce around inside him, rattling his ribs and squeezing his guts. 

“Shut up,” Goro grits out. When the echoes die down, he cracks an eye open to see that they have snapped their mouth shut. Quiet rattling breaths are the only thing keeping Goro company as he recovers. 

When he can finally concentrate he truly comprehends that this person is alive, and impaled. Their pale bloodstained back rising and falling with shallow breaths. Wounds slip up and down the gold arrow shafts, tiny rivulets of fresh blood floating up in the water.

Goro remains immobile. 

_ Are you just going to leave them here to die? _ Something echoes in his head, startling Goro out of his stupor. He watches those gold eyes start to come into focus, hazy incomprehension slowly transforming into pain. 

_ Where is thy justice? _ Rings out in his head as he watches the person’s head fall and their nails dig into the stone below them. 

_ To not punish wickedness is the same as authorizing it _.

Goro clenches his fists and storms forward, decision made and determination blazing in his soul. 

Taking in the sight before him, Goro weighs his options. The arrows are far too long to safely slide this person up and off, far larger than the one he pulled from their forehead. Attempting to try and pull the arrow back out will no doubt lead to disemboweling them. The thought has Goro forcing bile back down his throat. 

“Focus,” Goro murmurs to himself, missing the way the other person lifts their head to watch him. 

Perhaps if he can break the arrows in half then the person could slide themselves off, Goro thinks and drums his fingers against his crossed arms. They would have to be all in a similar spot and Goro has no idea if it was even possible to break the gold arrows to begin with. But it was better than leaving this person to their fate.

Keen gold eyes watch him as Goro steps closer to their side.

Reaching out, Goro takes a steadying breath. “Okay...” his eyes slide down to meet that curious and pained gaze. “Apologies. This is going to hurt a lot.”

Without waiting for an answer Goro grips the arrow with both hands and pushes as hard as he can. The gold shaft bends, so much so that Goro worries that he’s made the wrong decision and doomed this person. Until a thunderous “**CRACK**” resonates, nearly sending Goro sprawling to the ground.

The shattered gold arrow shaft falls to the stone floor. Regaining his footing, Goro looks to see the other person, face paler than ever before and looking a second away from passing out. 

Goro gets right back to work, the faster he finishes his task the faster they can leave.

The person is silent the whole time but Goro can tell the ordeal is taking its toll. 

“Last one,” Goro says, catching sight of the person’s bloody nails digging gouges into the stone slab.

With the last arrow broken Goro steps away. 

He watches shaky hands gather beneath the pale, blood-encrusted body. For a second, they do nothing. 

_ Get up _ , Goro thinks. Staring, waiting, watching this person. _ I did not do all that--come this far--for you to lie down and die _, Goro’s inner voice snarls. Gold eyes snap up, making Goro jolt. There’s no way this person could have heard his thoughts.

Whatever they see in Goro spurs them into action. Gold eyes hardening and shining with resolve. They take one last rattling breath, gripping the stone under them, and shove with all their might. 

The person throws their head back in a soul-wrenching scream as they rip themselves off the shattered arrows. A wave of force rips through the room and sends Goro sprawling onto his back. 

The whole building quakes down to its foundations, Goro can feel it as he tries to regain his breath. Bits of bone and masonry fall from the walls and shatter upon the floor.

They have to get out, Goro realizes in horror, the whole building is coming down around them and they’re in the depths of it.

Before Goro has a chance to properly panic, hands haul him up from the floor. It all happens so fast that Goro can’t properly process what exactly he’s seeing but he gets flickers of breaking stone, collapsing steps, and shattering stained glass. The next thing he knows they’re rushing towards a collapsing archway, the same one that he stepped through at the beginning of this whole disaster. 

_ We’re not going to make it _, the unwanted thought rips through his mind as he hears stone groaning above. 

** _Yes we are_ **, snaps a deep, dark reply, thundering through his mind.

They get through the doorway, just barely. Something must have interrupted their escape because he hears a pained yelp and the grip on him disappears. It sends him tumbling through the water, flailing for balance.

He gasps, only to choke on seawater, panic setting in as he can’t get a breath. He’s reaching for something, anything, to right himself but only gets open water.

Goro heaves and chokes, absently wondering if he’s going to drown. The thought is not nearly as concerning as it should be, he’s heard drowning is a peaceful way to go.

** _Wake up, Justice_ **, that echoing voice slams into him for a third time. Goro thinks he feels the faint brush of fingertips against his own before he’s jerking in his bed.

“Akechi--” he barely registers a voice speaking to him as he leans over his bed and heaves up a lungful of seawater. 

Back heaving, eyes unseeing another mouthful of water leaves him. He gets in a shaky breath before coughing, trembling and waiting for another violent upheaval of his body. When nothing more comes out he collapses on his bed, utterly exhausted.

He hears two voices, both panicking. _ Oh _ , the thinks as he lifts his head up and catches sight of his roommate, _ Makoto brought Yusuke in on the plan _.

“Akechi, stay awake!” Makoto calls to him, gently picking him up from his sprawl to pull him into a sitting position. 

It feels like his organs as swirling around, the phantom sensation of being rocked back and forth keeps Goro’s stomach from settling. He feels a hand rubbing at his back and it says a lot that Goro is too queasy to shake it off.

In his periphery Goro spots Yusuke bending down to pick something up off the floor. A blood-red mask with a long beak.

~

While Tokyo sleeps, in a secluded corner of Inokashira park, bubbles rise from the river. Up from the pitch-black water a shadow void of form raises itself out of the river and climbs upon the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE MAN OF THE HOUR FINALLY APPEARS! Hope you liked this chapter.  
Next time: Akira explores around Tokyo.


	7. Shadows in the City

Shivering, half-submerged, he heaves himself up. Coughs rip through his body and spill watery blood into the dirt. 

As he fully escapes the water’s embrace and rolls onto his back, Akira can’t help but grin.

Freedom had never tasted so sweet.

He takes a deep, shaky breath. Even in the dead of night he can taste Tokyo’s chaos, slightly muted but still potent. The clubs, the bars, the red-light district, like the finest of wines Akira savors it on the back of his tongue.

As much as he wants to revel in the chaos, wrap himself up in the insanity that is Tokyo, he’s weak. Incredibly weak. He feels half-deaf and mostly blind in this state. A quick look down at his torso reveals that he is in fact still bleeding. He has to get moving and getting drunk off Tokyo’s chaos would be counter-productive.

Bleary gold eyes close in concentration as Akira forces himself up. Standing makes his vision waver and his knees feel like they’re made of mush but at least he’s upright.

Wrapped up in a protective layer of shadows he staggers through the dark park and into the city proper. The lights and noise are like daggers even as he keeps to the back-alleys and squeezes between buildings. Even though Tokyo’s chaos buzzes through his veins, powering him forward, Akira has to find a safe place, at least until he can form a proper body. He feels like an exposed nerve in this state. 

A place to rest, to recover, is all Akira wants.

Eventually he ends up in a quiet neighborhood. He can still feel the activity of Tokyo humming like static in his periphery but it’s at a tolerable level. Sleeping in the street is an option, but Akira knows he couldn’t get true rest. His gold eyes warily slide to the sky. He needs a roof over his head.

Eventually he spots it. A window cracked open above what looks to be a restaurant of some kind. As quietly as he can manage Akira creeps up to the roof. Turns out being made of shadows can have some benefits, Akira’s footfalls are completely silent. Sliding across the roof he tentatively pushes the window open and peers inside. It looks to be a dusty old attic, stacked with boxes and bags, some shelves are covered in plastic. 

It’s the most welcoming place he’s ever seen.

Barely any dust is disturbed as he crawls inside. Gently pulling the window closed behind him Akira investigates his shelter. There aren’t many places to sleep, most of the boxes don’t give enough space for him to curl up on. As he looks around for something else, he spots a shelf filled with books. It looks stable enough, if he moves some of the books from the top shelf there’s enough room for him to sleep on. 

Easier said than done when he feels like he’s about to fall apart at any moment. Akira forgets to stay tangible for a second and a book slams against the floor. Stilling, Akira holds his breath, listening for any footsteps. When nothing happens, he continues his slow work. Finally, the space is free and he climbs up. 

Once Akira settles on the wood shelf, pillowing his head in his hands, he allows himself to relax. The aches in his bones, the pain still throbbing in his torso, every painful breath weighs him down. It’s an easy thing to fall asleep. 

Especially knowing he’ll wake up.

~

The first thought that enters Akira’s mind when he wakes up is this: “damned sunlight.” 

It has his eyes snapping open to confirm that yes, he’s out, he’s  _ free _ . The realization and sheer relief has him sagging and his limbs spilling over the edges of the wooden shelf. Stretching out all his limbs Akira quietly climbs down from the shelf. He can hear some activity downstairs so he tries to be extra cautious. 

First order of business: skin. 

Wrapping his shadowed form in bone, muscle, and skin comes as a relief. The sensory overload dims down until finally disappearing. Akira flexes and rubs his fingers together curiously, feeling the new but familiar sensation of nerve endings lighting up.

Next: clothes.

Akira has been able to catch glimpses of various outfits last night. Most of them had been too eye-catching for what he needs. Akira doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, not when he feels like there could still be eyes above watching. At least not yet.

Black pants seem like a safe bet, he had seen plenty of those. A turtle neck, plain white. There was still a chill in the air, most people didn’t seem to want to wear short sleeves. A black blazer he’d seen another person wearing the night before tops off his look. Black and white, perfect for blending into a crowd. Perfectly human.

He still needed to do something about his eyes. Unfortunately, their gold color was something Akira could never hide. Not without something to help. Normally Akira’s mask would do the trick but...Justice still held onto that.

A smile cuts across Akira’s face as he remembers Justice. He’ll have to find that young man.

Perhaps after he has a proper meal.

Until then he settles a pair of black frames against his face. That should be enough to hide his eyes.

Pushing open the window, Akira crawls out into the dawn and quietly scales down the roof. There’s only an alleycat as a witness. His feet hit the pavement and he shoves his hands into his pockets. Completely human, completely normal. As he walks by a crash echoes out of the dumpster, cats jumping away and yowling, Akira hears people yelling behind him as chaos erupts in the alley.

It was good to be back.

A gentle rain rolls through Tokyo, sending people scrambling for shelter. Akira was just making his way into downtown when it began and he took the opportunity to sit back under a shop’s awning to watch it all unfold.

A beautiful young woman joins him, hiding from the rain for a brief moment. Akira tilts his head as he looks at her. He wonders what her story was, where she was going, where she believed life would take her. The lives of humans were so wonderfully unpredictable.

But his thoughts are disrupted when another human pulls up. The older man’s words are lost to Akira when the wisps of something float across his senses.

A new meal.

Akira has to press his lips together to stop himself from drooling.

_ Calm down _ , he silently scolds himself as he watches the young woman get into the car. Akira dismisses the offer for a ride as well with a tight smile. 

There’s something...wrong about this whole situation. Akira catches it right before the two leave. The woman, in that brief moment before the window closes, looks so incredibly uncomfortable and sad.

As the car drives off, a flash of bright yellow flies by with a frustrated and irritated, “Damn it! Screw that pervy teacher.”

Akira must have made some noise because the blonde turns to look at him with a scowl. 

“What do you want? You plannin’ on rattin’ me out to Kamoshida?”

There’s anger in that tone, something that speaks to past wrongs. Clearly, there’s a grudge but Akira can taste something else beneath that tone, something that calls to him; the fledgling feathers of rebellion.

_ Well, nice to meet you Chariot _ , Akira thinks to himself with a small smile.

The young man with sunshine for hair says something about that man, Kamoshida, being a king of the castle. This Kamoshida must have done something to warrant that opinion, and if Akira’s senses aren’t failing him that something is definitely tied to distorted desires and godhood.

“...Don’t you agree?” Akira blinks as the young man looks at him, clearly asking for an answer. Oh no, he wasn’t really paying attention. Quick, think of something, Akira’s mind urges.

He takes a breath to speak but as soon as he tries Akira has to turn away and coughs rattle through his lungs. I must not be as fully healed as I thought, Akira thinks through the wet coughs. He tastes blood in the back of his throat and hopes he doesn’t get any on his hands.

A warm, tentative hand on his back makes Akira flinch. Looking over to see the blonde lifting his hands up apologetically.

“Sorry dude, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he says, “Are you okay?”

Surprised that this human would care about a random stranger Akira nods, he points to his throat and shakes his head.

“Lost your voice, huh?” The young man crosses his arms, “That’s rough. Especially on your first day, you’re a transfer student right? I’ve never seen you around but you’ve got that dumb badge Shujin makes us wear.”

Looking down to his blazer Akira realizes that he does, in fact, have a shield-looking badge attached. He’d simply copied what he had seen the night before. But, instead of denying it, Akira nods again. It’s best to let this young man make his own assumptions and use those as a cover. The more human he seems the less likely he’ll be found.

“C’mon, the rain’s just starting to let up. I’ll walk with ya to make sure you don’t get lost, I’m goin’ the same way anyway.”

Where, exactly, Akira was going he wasn’t quite sure. But there was something appealing about not knowing, he was looking forward to some fun.

“Oh yeah, I’m Ryuji. You can just tell me your name when you have a voice again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE'S FINALLY ARRIVED. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  
Next time: Bonding with Ryuji
> 
> I also got a twitter! If you'd like to yell about worldbuilding or just yell in general you can find me at [AO3Goativa](https://twitter.com/AO3Goativa), there really isn't anything there yet but I'm always happy to chat.


	8. Spin Your Wheels, Chariot

The new transfer kid was a little weird, Ryuji decides as they walk through the drizzle towards Shujin University. Where was this guy even from? The middle of nowhere? Surely everyone has heard of Suguru Kamoshida, Olympic gold medal winner and bastard that could do no wrong.

But...Ryuji is kind of glad that the new guy hasn’t heard of Kamoshida. That just means he wouldn’t have heard the rumors about Ryuji. A clean slate is something Ryuji hasn’t had in a while.

Still, the new guy keeps looking around Tokyo like some kind of tourist. One time, Ryuji has to stop the guy from walking out into traffic. 

They eventually make it to the Shujin University gates without any more incidents. 

It seems like everyone was having bad luck today, Ryuji’s seen a guy walk into a pole and two people get absolutely soaked by passing cars splashing through puddles. 

Ryuji has to admit, it was pretty funny. Sharing a secretive laugh with the new guy was fun too.

“Dude, did you see that guy’s face? He looked totally surprised,” Ryuji snickers, “Like the pole just jumped in front of him.”

The new guy makes a noise of agreement, grinning along with him.

But, apparently, the universe just wanted to piss in his cereal because who was standing at the gate but king asshole. 

“You look so carefree, Sakamoto.”

Ryuji’s face immediately dropped as he turns to look at Kamoshida.

“You’ve really changed from when you were on the track team,” Kamoshida shakes his head in mock sadness, like it was a damn shame. Like it wasn’t his damn fault that the track team was dissolved in the first place.

“And who is this? Got yourself a _ boyfriend _?” Kamoshida smiles, looking down his nose at Ryuji and spitting out the word like it was something distasteful.

Ryuji takes a step in front of the new guy, “Shut up. Leave him out of this,” he grits out. He doesn’t want this guy’s first day to be ruined just because he associated with Ryuji.

“He’s a transfer student, he’s got nothin’ to do with me. I just walked him here so he wouldn’t get lost.”

“How noble,” Kamoshida says with a mocking smile. “You two better get to class before you’re late.”

Ryuji wants to punch that smug smile right off Kamoshida’s face, but he knows he can’t. 

Feeling a hand on his shoulder has Ryuji looking over to see the new guy. And...wow, if looks could kill then Kamoshida would be dead ten times over. It’s a brief glare, Ryuji doesn’t think Kamoshida notices. But when he turns those dark grey eyes back to Ryuji that intensity is gone. 

The new guy nods towards campus and his eyes say _ “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” _

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ryuji nods and stomps off into campus proper, the new guy tailing after him.

Once they’re far enough away Ryuji lets out a frustrated noise and kicks a pebble, “Screw that guy. Trying to push you around just ‘cause you’re hangin’ out with me.”

But the new guy shrugs, giving him a look that says, _ “I don’t mind.” _

“You say that now but...” Ryuji rubs the back of his head, “Take it from me, that asshat can make your life Hell.”

To that the new guy turns to look at the distant figure of Kamoshida and, in a complete deadpan, flips him off.

That yanks a sputtering laugh from Ryuji, throwing his head back as he grins so wide his face hurts.

“Dude!” He knocks shoulders with the new guy, “I think we’re gonna get along great! Oh! Right, gimmie your contact info, we can hang out later.”

Ryuji navigates to his contacts screen before handing it off. The new guy pats down his pockets before retrieving a simple black phone and handing it to Ryuji, contact page also pulled up.

A weird little noise comes out of Ryuji’s phone as the new guy puts in his info, but he just assumes it’s an alert from the university or something equally unimportant.

When he gets his phone back he looks at the name and smiles. There’s a weird little white mask icon for his picture but Ryuji isn’t going to question it, at least it’ll make it easier to remember who he’s texting.

“Nice to meetcha, Akira.”

Ryuji starts to jog off to class once he sees the time on his phone, “Let’s meet up at lunch, yeah?”

**~ ~ ~**

[Ryuji]: Dude

[Ryuji]: I’m so bored

[Akira]: Aren’t you supposed to be paying attention in class?

[Ryuji]: Well!!!

[Ryuji]: What about you!?

[Akira]: I’m at the library.

[Ryuji]: Laaaaaaame 

[Ryuji]: Let’s talk about lunch, it’ll give me something to look forward to.

[Akira]: Sure, but you can’t blame me when you fail. Or the teacher gets mad.

[Ryuji]: Don’t doubt my skills, dude

[Ryuji]: But whaddya want?

[Akira]: Whatever you want, I forgot my wallet so I won’t have any.

[Ryuji]: For real!? Dude I’ll spot ya

[Akira]: Are you sure…? You don’t have to.

[Ryuji]: Don’t worry about it dude

[Akira]: Fine. Some place close and cheap.

[Ryuji]: OK, OK. You’re not vegetarian are ya?

[Akira]: Not at all.

[Ryuji]: Great! I know the perfect place!

**~ ~ ~**

Ryuji held the firm belief that the university cafeteria was a place only freshmen and the truly desperate went. Well...not _ all _ university cafeterias were bad. Just Shujin’s. He has heard that hoity-toity Kosei University has good food.

“Man, it’s like they don’t even attempt to give us good food, just because we’re not a top-tier school,” Ryuji said around a mouthful of rice and beef. Much to Akira’s amusement if that smile was anything to go by.

“And yeah, I get it. We’re in Tokyo, which has food everywhere you look,” Ryuji motions to the beef bowl shop they’re in, “But c’mon, at least _ try,_ you know?”

Akira nods along, food untouched in front of him. Ryuji frowns and points at Akira’s bowl.

“You haven’t even touched your food, somethin’ wrong?” 

Akira straightens up and gives a shrug, toying with his curly hair. 

“Dude,” Ryuji rolls his eyes, “Stop feelin’ guilty about me buying your lunch and just dig in! It’s really good.”

As if to prove his point, Ryuji takes another big bite. He watches Akira eye his beef bowl before helping himself to a heaping spoonful of meat and rice. Ryuji swears the guy’s eyes literally light up at the first bite. The next thing Ryuji knows he’s fighting back laughter as he watches Akira wolf down the rest of his meal. Akira is eating like he hasn’t had a meal in a thousand years.

“It’s not going to run away from you, chill,” Ryuji snorts, grinning as he chows down as well. 

“I know,” comes a surprisingly deep voice from beside him. Ryuji’s eyes widen when he hears it and he claps Akira on the back.

“Dude! You got your voice back!”

“Seems like it,” Akira rubs at his neck, wincing a little as it sounded rough around the edges.

“Now you can tell me all about yourself. It’s friendship 101 after all,” Ryuji teases before he looks at Akira and sees the guy actually thinking about it.

“It all started when my mother...” Akira starts in a somber tone.

“W-wait you don’t gotta if--”

“Sold me to the circus.”

Ryuji stares at Akira for a moment before snorting and laughing, Akira’s devious little smile spurring him on.

“You think you’re _ so _ funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hilarious,” Akira’s deadpan reply has Ryuji laughing all over again.

“Anyway, you don’t gotta talk about your past if you don’t want to. I get it, not everyone’s past is filled with sunshine and roses.”

He looks up to find himself the sole focus of Akira’s slate-grey eyes. For some reason, even though they’ve only just met, Ryuji doesn’t mind talking about what happened. 

“I did something stupid at school…” Ryuji drops his voice low so people don’t eavesdrop, just in case.

“It’s all that pervy bastard’s fault, Kamoshida. He’s some Olympic hotshot and coaches the volleyball teams. He...he broke my leg, and made me lose my track scholarship. I nearly got kicked out of Shujin because of him.”

Ryuji thinks he hears a weird growl next to him, but the only one there is Akira so he dismisses it.

“Sorry,” Ryuji huffs, a little embarrassed that he started oversharing, “I didn’t mean to dump my baggage on you.”

“It’s okay.” While Ryuji’s heard those words many times before Akira says in a way that makes him actually believe it.

**~ ~ ~**

Human food would never truly make Akira feel full but he has to admit it is delicious. Akira makes a mental note to return to that beef bowl shop, it seemed inexpensive enough for a college student to not stick out.

He had parted ways with Ryuji once they got back onto the university campus, with the promise to meet up again tomorrow. The blonde’s loud enthusiasm and sunshine smile had lifted Akira’s spirits after his listless but educational time in the library. 

Apparently, the shield badge was used as an identification card around campus. From things like checking out books at the library or buying food at the cafeteria. Humans always thought of the most ingenious solutions, Akira had thought once he found out. He wasn’t entirely sure what the woman at the desk saw when she asked for his ID card, but with a twist of shadow, Akira allowed her to see what she expected to see.

At first, Akira had gone in an attempt to see if there were any books on himself. Perhaps narcissistic but he needed to know if any information on him was readily available. He would have disposed of it. Fortunately, there would be no destroying of library property today. All that he found were some academic books talking about the horror genre itself and a graphic novel that, while truly fascinating in a way humans would find disturbing, did not mention him in the slightest.

Although, he did take the time to try and familiarize himself with the world, trying to get an abridged version of human history was difficult. While trapped in the sunken cathedral the collective unconscious lapped at his mind like waves on a shore. So he knew what cars and phones and computers were, but specific public figures or minor historic events? Not a clue.

He had started to become overwhelmed with useless information when Ryuji texted him. A welcome distraction.

But now here he was meandering through the campus without a goal in mind.

That is until he hears, “I-I haven’t been sleeping well lately...”

Those words bring him to a standstill. He tries not to be too obvious as he looks for the source of the conversation.

“Whenever I close my eyes, I keep thinking about too many things...”

There, Akira spots them. Two young women sitting at a bench near some vending machines, one with blonde hair one with black. He sneaks over and hides behind a pillar, thankful that he has enough power to pull at the shadows and hide himself from sight.

As he listens in, Akira starts to relax a little. It seems like this girl’s--Shiho’s--restless nights are related to some important volleyball event and not anything stranger. He’s about to leave them to it when someone interrupts, bringing summons from Kamoshida.

Akira doesn’t like the undercurrent of fear in Shiho’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No regrets, just Ryuji-loving hours. I hope you all enjoyed a bit of Ryuji's POV! But sorry Ryuji, you have to increase your confidant level to unlock Akira's backstory :3c  
Next time: Ann has a talk and...Oh No.  
Edit: HOLY COW O-KAI MADE ART AND I'M??? CRYING???? [LOOK](https://o-kai.tumblr.com/post/189634585554/some-art-inspired-from-goativas-akeshu-fic-god)! It's so beautiful give it some love!


	9. Weep, Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains Shiho's suicide attempt.

Their connection is a wisp of a thing; like a thread of a spiderweb, connecting him with the Chariot. Akira wraps it around his finger, inspecting it with an alien fascination. It would be easy--so, very, easy--to hook his claws on the shining yellow thread and snap it. Perhaps it would be better that way, Akira thinks as he tests the strength of the connection. His kind doesn't form connections like these. The idea of anyone wanting to get close to Akira, and therefore close to his _ teeth _, was laughable. And yet Akira finds it difficult to go through with tearing out their connection.

Ryuji had been kind to him. Ryuji had bought him food. Ryuji had a flickering, rebellious flame in his soul.

He lets their connection slip through his fingers, unharmed. Now that he had decided to leave it be, Akira’s curiosity got the better of him. How would a connection like this grow? How would it affect both of them? 

Speaking of connections...

Akira hooks his claws around another faint thread. A deep, bloody red. A flash of a connection, formed in pain and panic. Justice.

He was definitely keeping this one. Justice was too intriguing to ignore. No one else had gone that deep into the cathedral. Akira had vaguely known, in his dead-yet-dreaming state, that others had entered but only on a surface level. Curiosity gnawed at him, he had questions and they would only be answered by finding Justice.

It’s as Akira is meandering through the busy train station that he hears a familiar voice. It’s the blonde-haired woman Akira had seen a few days previously talking to Shiho. In one of their conversations Ryuji had mentioned her name was Ann. 

He listens in to her conversation, she sounds frustrated, upset. A teacher. Shiho. 

Akira peeks past the thin veneer of reality, and watches Ann’s flickering flame sputter and dim. A rebellious spirit being smothered by hopelessness. 

Akira must have been staring because Ann notices him. She doesn’t like the fact that he’s been eavesdropping and brushes off his curious inquiries. Then she’s off, running through the train station in the hopes of losing him. He has two options: he could turn right around and merge back with the crowd, leave Ann be, ignore her problems. Or, Akira could run after her.

Why should I? Akira thinks to himself, rooted on the spot with indecision. What does it matter?

Conflict. Indecision. _ Apathy _.

All three sit bitterly in his throat. There’s no benefit to him in going after Ann, in listening to her problems.

And yet…

Yet.

Akira finally moves, taking off after the head of blonde hair darting through the station. It brings out some old predatory instincts, _ chase, chase, CATCH _.

When he does catch up with her she’s hiding behind a colorful column, and honestly it’s adorable that she thought that she could ever hide from something like Akira. But, when he tries to get her to talk, Ann begins to cry. Akira starts to feel the eyes of bystanders crawling over his skin; their silent judgement and assumptions made him bristle. 

“Let’s go somewhere safe?”

And that’s how Akira finds himself tucked away in a cafe with Ann. Stress rolls off of her in palpable waves, then the truth all comes spilling out. Solicitation and pressure for sex. Holding Shiho’s position—her future—hostage. Hatred. Hopelessness. 

“Tell me...what should I do?”

Akira freezes. What does he say? The advice of_ “crack the bones of your enemies and feast on their marrow” _ is certainly not something a normal human would say. Thankfully, Ann backpedals a little, not expecting an answer. But...just because it’s not his problem doesn’t mean Akira doesn’t want to help. Not when Ann’s inner fire seems to be sputtering and struggling to stay lit.

He’s going to fan the flames.

~ ~ ~

“Are you really a bad person…?”

Ann’s heard the rumors, pretty much anyone hanging around Ryuji is going to have something criminal attached to them. Although, it’s probably no different from herself all things considered. People said all kinds of things about her. Associating with Kamoshida wasn’t good for anyone--well, anyone who was a student, that is. The other adults seem to just sing his praises. Anyone who goes against Kamoshida gets their entire reputation destroyed, life becomes a living hell. There’s all sorts of rumors going around about the new guy--Akira, she’s found out--that he’s got a record, that he’s in witness protection, that he’s part of the Yakuza. All sorts of exaggerated things. But...from what Ann’s seen? He just seems to be a quiet, regular guy. Which makes it all the stranger that she’s opening up to him. Especially when she hasn’t opened up to Shiho about these things. 

Akira just gives her a little smile, “I’m bad to the bone.”

That draws a snort out of Ann, “Sure you are.”

There was a strange feeling she got from Akira, a familiar sense of loneliness that she didn’t get to see in others. It was almost like he didn’t fit in, despite looking normal.

“I get it, you know?” She starts off, “Not really feeling like you fit in. My parents aren’t Japanese, obviously,” Ann motions to her hair, “I know what it feels like when people look at you like you’re an alien.”

Dark grey eyes stare her down, watching, waiting, curious but wary. Ann has to wonder why even though Akira reached out to her, he’s still guarded.

“Shiho never cared about that...” Ann sighs sadly as her mind drifts to her best friend. Her best friend--or something more--was hiding something. As hypocritical as it was...Ann wanted Shiho to talk to her about it, maybe that would help her open up too? Those injuries...Kamoshida’s demands...it was too much. 

“I wish he’d just--just--”

“Disappear?”

“Right,” Ann drops back against her seat, “As if that would ever happen.”

“You never know,” comes his response, almost overly-casual. She watches him swirl the ice around his drink with a straw. He smiles, and for a brief moment Ann thinks his teeth are sharper than they should be. But that’s ridiculous; people don’t have sharp teeth like that. 

“Yeah and maybe pigs will fly. I wasn’t expecting a serious answer, Akira.” She let out another huff, this one was far less sad. Opening up to Akira was making her feel better, a relief Ann hadn’t known she needed. 

“But...thanks for talking with me. I’ll think of a way to convince Kamoshida.” She stands and makes her way out of the little corner of the cafe. “Oh yeah, don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

She almost misses the quiet, “Who would I tell?”

It was said in such genuine confusion, with that familiar loneliness, that it made her heart squeeze.

~ ~ ~

Akira’s new favorite place is on top of an air conditioning unit atop one of the classroom buildings. It allows him to watch the humans walk around campus from above, completely undisturbed. From what he’s seen, the rooftop is restricted access. People aren’t supposed to come up here, which means it's the perfect place for him to relax. Akira can feel his...otherworldly aspects itching to push past the veil of reality, to flex and flare and display. The **mayhem** that would cause is absolutely delicious. But the cons of being seen like that thoroughly outweigh the pros of tasting that kind of chaos. 

Who knows who was watching? Akira’s eyes drift skywards again and he snarls softly, sharp teeth pricking at his bottom lip. He needs to be more subtle than that when working his chaos.

He turns his focus back down, perched like a gargoyle and watching the humans go about their lives with their own worries. Each one a story of varying complexity and chaos. It was amazing how few actually looked up.

Distracted by his people-watching Akira startles when he hears the door opening and presses himself flat to the giant air-conditioning unit. The last thing he needs is to get caught where he’s not supposed to be, it would be an incredible inconvenience. 

Peering over the edge reveals Shiho walking across the roof. But something felt incredibly wrong, it was the way she walked that unsettled Akira. He silently slinks along the unit, following the unaware girl as she makes her way across the roof.

_ What are you doing? _ Akira thinks with a frown as she climbs over the fence. _ What are you doing?! _ Akira’s eyes widen as he sees her standing on the edge.

Shiho slips from the edge and Akira barely thinks twice as he leaps after her. 

Time slows as Akira’s mind works overtime. _ Why should I care? _ Akira’s mind snaps as he reaches for her. _ Why does it matter? _

Akira stares into her hopeless eyes, seeing the emptiness of a flame smothered. So thoroughly destroyed. 

_ Where was her choice _?

His resolve hardens as he thinks of what led her to this. Of what made her come to this decision. To have her freedom and rebellion completely destroyed. 

Akira’s hands wrap around her wrists. There isn’t enough distance for him to slow their descent enough to guarantee her survival. He has another option, but it’s going to hurt like hell. There’s enough room to cushion her fall.

_ Is it worth it…? Will it be enough? _ He thinks, meeting her eyes in the air, dark, horrified, and filled with regret.

Akira makes his decision then and there. Golden eyes shine behind his glasses, form wavering as he forces an inhuman part of himself forward. Reality could handle it. Reality would have to handle it. 

With the gentle sound of something wet tearing a pair of grand, arching wings emerge from Akira’s back. Black, boney fingers stretch with leather-like skin, tattered and ripped, casting a shadow over them both.

He pulls Shiho close, cutting off her horrified scream.

_ Let this be enough _, Akira thinks as he twists them, just enough so that Shiho doesn’t take the brunt of the fall. 

One wing crumples as they land with a sickening crunch and an inhuman scream.

~ ~ ~

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ryuji pants as he sprints down the stairs, damning his bum leg for slowing him down. What the fuck was that?! Ryuji had seen Shiho fall, which was already bad enough, then to see Akira ** _jump after her_ ** had Ryuji bolting. Ann wasn’t too far behind. 

He could barely process what came after Akira had jumped, it felt like he was trying to look at a magic-eye picture. What had he seen? Looking at Akira had _ hurt _.

It was difficult to actually get there with the crowds of people clustering around the doorways and halls. Thankfully, neither Ann nor Ryuji have any qualms about shouldering their way past people. People who were taking goddamn videos of what had happened.

“What the hell is wrong with these people!?” Ryuji snarls as he and Ann finally get outside. 

The EMT’s were already there, loading Shiho onto a stretcher. It made sense for Ann to go with her, especially with the other teachers dithering and murmuring amongst themselves that it wasn’t _ their _ responsibility.

It made Ryuji sick. 

His head was on a swivel looking for Akira, fear churning his stomach. Where was he? There wasn’t another stretcher on the ground end the EMT’s had already loaded up Ann and Shiho. 

“** _AKIRA!_ **” Ryuji calls out, ignoring the professors that try to corral the students, trying to maintain some semblance of order. Even though they had barely known each other a week Ryuji was already attached. Akira was sarcastic, quiet, funny, and had actually taken the time to listen to Ryuji. 

He catches sight of something darting around a corner and Ryuji is off like a shot. Ryuji has always trusted his gut, what he lacked in smarts he made up with for instincts. Skidding to a stop just outside the school grounds Ryuji searches for his friend, looking for that shadow he had seen before. He finds it slinking into an alleyway across the university. 

“Akira?” Ryuji calls out again, quieter this time as he jogs over to the alley, hidden from view between two buildings. 

“**Go away**.”

It makes Ryuji freeze, two simple words that have his blood chilling. There’s something about them, an echo in Akira’s voice that sounds very, very _ wrong _.

“D-dude, c’mon, I’m worried. What the hell happened back there?” Ryuji tries, taking another step into the dim alleyway, a deep, dark growl has him stilling once more. 

“**I said. Go. ** ** _Away_ ** **.**”

Ryuji is suddenly brought back to a memory of his childhood, when he had chased away some bullies kicking at a cat by a dumpster. He had tried to help the injured cat but had gotten scratched for his troubles. After a visit to the doctor’s and a few colorful bandages later, Ryuji asked his mother “Why?” And she had replied, “An animal that’s hurt will sometimes strike out in fear, even if you’re trying to help. You have to be patient, Ryuji.”

Akira’s no cat, but Ryuji can’t help but think back to that day. In defiance to his own fear, as much as he doesn’t understand it, Ryuji steels himself. His friend is hurt, Akira needs him. He’ll be patient, just like his mom said. 

“No way. I’m gonna be here until you calm down.” Ryuji crosses his arms and leans against the building, scuffing his foot against the ground. There’s silence that he thinks is stunned but he can’t tell for sure. 

“I don’t know what you did with Shiho back there,” Ryuji says after a few beats of silence.

“Is she alive?” Ryuji is surprised to hear Akira’s voice, no longer strange and twisted. 

“Yeah, she’s alive. I don’t know...how okay she’ll be but--”

“That’s enough.” It’s said softly, with intense relief. “As long as she’s alive, that alone is enough. That’s...worth it.”

They lapse back into silence but Ryuji doesn’t mind; he can feel Akira’s presence like a physical force. He watches people leaving the university in crowds; no doubt classes were canceled in the wake of what happened. Especially when it was so public. It’s as the sky starts to change from blue to yellow-orange that he hears movement in the alley. When he looks over there’s Akira, cradling an arm and looking...rough. The shadows seem to stick to Akira as he walks closer. Ryuji chalks that up to the sun starting to sink. 

He opens his mouth, ready to ask a million questions. But the tired look in Akira’s eyes has him hesitating. 

“At least let me ride with you to your stop? I want to make sure you don’t keel over in the subway.”

That at least draws a small smile and a snort from Akira. He nods and leads the way, Ryuji acting like a barrier between him and the rest of Tokyo.

Ryuji is no mind reader but he has a feeling that Akira is grateful.

~ ~ ~

Akira returns to the quiet neighborhood of Yongen-Jaya, exhausted but not defeated. He crawls up to his little hideaway, mind already going through his options. As he closes the window behind him, Akira takes a breath and unfurls his form. 

The shadows of the room warp and twist, stretching and devouring the sunset’s light. Glowing gold eyes blink from the shadows, mouths cracking open to let out shuddering sighs. His wings come next, one stretching high to brush against the beams of the ceiling while the other...flops uselessly beside him. Broken and twitching. Akira hisses, echoed quietly by his extra mouths. 

There’s no putting it off any longer, he has to hunt. Without a true meal Akira’s wing would remain broken, his abilities would remain limited.

How long had it been since he was at the height of his power?

Akira couldn’t say.

At the very least he knew exactly where to find his next meal. A creeping smile curls his lips, all of his mouths following suit. 

  
Suguru Kamoshida would make for an _ excellent _ first course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Itadakimasu (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧  
I hope you all enjoyed this one and thank you all for being so patient! All of your comments and kudos motivate me to write more.


	10. Itadakimasu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Please note the updated rating and the new warning. This chapter contains depictions of blood and gore! Maybe I've over-tagged but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Enjoy~!

Goro’s dreams had become somewhat normal. He even kept up a journal to monitor their trends, but for the most part he hadn’t dreamt anything related to that cathedral or that person he had seen in their depths. 

Just his normal nightmares.

Until tonight, when he finds himself suspended in deep, dark water. The weightless sensation chills him to the bone, never mind the frigid waters around him. The mask on his face brings Goro something like comfort even if Goro logically knows that a mask can’t do much. Still, it had supposedly protected him in the cathedral. Remembering last time, Goro holds his breath, not wanting to relive the sensation of drowning.

“Relax.”

Goro whips around, his long hair swaying, and comes face-to-face with a pair of glowing gold eyes. A pearly white smile cracks open in the darkness to reveal vicious, sharp teeth.

“Boo.” The apparition snickers, eyes scrunching and teeth clacking in their amusement.

Goro gives them an unimpressed glare.

“So prickly. But that makes sense for someone like you, Justice.” Goro tries to pay attention to any clues--anything that would help him in the waking world. But all he can see in the darkness are the eyes and the teeth.

The sound of something sharp scraping against porcelain makes Goro flinch and to his horror he sees a claw dragging down the red “beak” of his mask.

“This is definitely an interesting turn.” The gold eyes glitter curiously and loom closer. “I guess our connection is deeper than I thought. But...I’ll be needing this back.”

More claws gently graze against Goro’s temples, the soft touch spurs him into action. Goro tries to twist away, thrashing in the water and bringing his hands up to protect his face.

The entity looks mildly put-off at best. 

“Hey! I’m not trying to--would you just--I’m not--” A deep, echoing growl ripples through the water. A primal part of Goro’s mind screams and forces Goro to freeze. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The words are gentle and Goro finds himself believing them and relaxing. It’s unnatural. His mind feels at war with itself, fight or flight at a stalemate that locks up his muscles.

The claws return and, with a gentleness that Goro hasn’t felt in a _ long _ time, they pull the mask from his face. 

Goro watches as it ripples, shrinking and warping back into the black and white mask he had found in that cathedral. Unseen hands place it back over golden eyes where it fits perfectly.

Then more eyes open.

More and_ more _ and ** _more_ ** and--Oh God there’s so many. 

They light up the pitch-black sea with a golden glow, fanning out from the behind the figure’s head. A fractal array of eyes and teeth spiraling endlessly inwards and outwards in equal measure. Like a magic-eye image that he can’t quite see, it hurts to look at but Goro cannot look away. Backlit as they are, Goro knows for sure that this is the same figure he found in the cathedral.

“Thanks again.” They say, opening their arms wide before giving Goro an exaggerated bow. “I bid you adieu, I won’t be haunting your dreams any longer.”

One by one the eyes disappear, then the mask, and lastly that devious smirk.

Leaving Goro alone in a sea of darkness.

When he wakes, there’s no water in his lungs but he is short of breath. Goro’s eyes snap to his bookshelf and to his horror the blood-red mask--the only piece of evidence that his experiences weren’t a figment of his imagination--was gone.

**~ ~ ~**

Kamoshida typically worked late, and tonight was no exception. Not only did he have volleyball practices to coach but there was also an inordinate amount of paperwork. As Shujin University’s crown jewel it wouldn’t do for him to appear to be slacking in any regard. He wouldn’t let anything tarnish his reputation and neither would the university.

After letting off some steam on the men’s volleyball team he’s more than willing to take on this paperwork. He was just finishing up when he heard something in the hall. Not unusual, the janitor was still in the building along with a few lingering volleyball team members. Perhaps it was Mishima dragging his feet again? Kamoshida dismisses it and goes back to the paperwork.

Until it happens again, louder.

It sounded like glass breaking which got Kamoshida’s attention. He won’t have any student supposedly on his watch breaking the university’s property. So he stands up and storms to the door, fully determined to start chewing out whatever student dumb enough to break something.

But he finds no one, not a soul.

One of the lights is out at the far end of the hall, shrouding it in darkness. That’s...odd. Normally maintenance is on top of flickering lights, rarely are they totally burnt out. 

Right before his eyes another ceiling light explodes. Not fizzles out--explodes. Kamoshida rears back, even though he’s plenty far away, as the light pops and thin shards of glass rain down onto the floor.

An oppressive, choking silence begins to settle before it happens again, Kamoshida feels fear start to squeeze his throat. 

The sound of footsteps in the darkness makes Kamoshida call out, an annoyed and slightly wavering, “_HEY _!” 

He doesn’t think about how his hands tremble or how he’s shifting his weight. To do--what? To run? Please, as if anyone in this school would hurt him.

As Kamoshida peers into the darkness to try and see who it is that fearful grip on his neck tightens. 

Golden eyes.

Like a bug in a display case he feels pinned and completely, utterly _ seen _.

Kamoshida isn’t sure what whips his fight or flight response into high gear but he turns tail and runs. Bolting down the hall and making for the stairs. 

_ Pop_

_Pop_

** _Pop_ **

The sound of glass shattering chases after him, darkness nipping at his heels as he takes stairs two at a time to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know whatever was in the darkness is following right behind him. The hairs on his neck have been on end since he saw those inhuman eyes.

Kamoshida tries for the door to the courtyard and finds it jammed, a pair of dripping black handprints slam against the glass. Sending inky, tar-like substance splattering. The black splatters spread and slowly consume the door’s glass, snuffing out the light filtering through.

“**_Where do you think you’re going?_ **” A deep voice snarls from down the hall.

Kamoshida turns to find those golden eyes staring back at him, but this time he can see much more. What little light remains shows a stark white mask resting over the eyes and the outline of a figure. It just looks like a man. So why does Kamoshida throw himself down the hall as soon as he sees them?

He tries to make for the other exit out the first floor but more lights burst and nearly send shards of glass into his face. He turns down the long hall towards the gymnasium. There’s a way out through there if he could only make it. 

Once he bursts into the gym he rushes towards the double doors at the far end. He slams into them with all his might only for them to remain firmly shut. As Kamoshida looks up to his horror black handprints are smeared over the windows. That black, tar-like substance oozes from the seam between the doors, his only exit blocked. It’s then that Kamoshida realizes that he hasn’t been escaping. He’s been corralled, right where that _ thing _ wants him.

Slowly, he turns around and sees the figure casually leaning against the doorframe of the gym, hand stuffed into pockets. Pushing themselves off the metal frame they begin to walk towards Kamoshida. The shadows of the gymnasium begin to twist and writhe, stretching after the man and devouring what little moonlight shone through the windows. 

Kamoshida’s gut feels like it’s being tossed in a washing machine; his fear is choking him, but he’s not going to go down without a fight! He’s Suguru Kamoshida damnit! He’s not going to be brought down by some man who thinks he can intimidate him. That’s all this is: just a man trying to push Kamoshida around. He’s broken a leg before, Kamoshida knows how to take someone down a peg. 

Face twisting into a snarl, Kamoshida rushes forward--much to the other man’s surprise if those widened golden eyes were any indication--and puts all his power into a punch. Hopefully it’ll be enough to knock the fucker out while Kamoshida makes a break for it. His punch connects, slamming into the other man’s temple. Good, Kamoshida mentally snarls as he watches the white mask go flying, that head of black curls snapping to the side with the force. He stumbles back a step but doesn’t go down for some reason. 

From where his head is twisted, Kamoshida watches the other man’s lips twitch before forming a sharp smile. With one smooth, inhuman motion they straighten up and turn to look Kamoshida in the eyes. Viscous, black liquid slides down from their hairline, where the white mask once sat is now a curtain of black...blood? Oh--fuck did his skin skin come off with the mask!? Kamoshida steps back as bile burns up his throat. 

“**_Congratulations,_ ** ” A deep voice says, drawing their clawed hand out of their pocket to push back sticky, black bangs. “_**Now I’m mad .**_”

**~ ~ ~**

The edges of the Metaverse wrap around Akira like cling film being stretched too tight, the thinnest of barriers between his True Form and reality. It’s a familiar if slightly restraining sensation. The more he brings of himself into this world, the tighter it stretches, but never seems to break. Akira’s never tried tearing the fabric of reality but he has a feeling it would be bad for everyone involved.

He had been content not to bring much of himself forward while hunting his prey tonight, his shadows and claws would be more than enough. But then, the foolish king had punched him. Now Akira was _ pissed _. 

Baring his monstrous teeth Akira’s shadows grow, allowing for his extra eyes to snap open and glare balefully down at his prey. Floorboards buckle and bend, tar-sticky shadows bubbling up and birthing many mouths that snap and snarl. Akira’s true form pressed harshly against the thin barrier of reality, warping the very air around him.

Akira can only imagine what he looks like to a human. With dozens of glowing eyes decorating the walls, teeth and tar seeping through the floorboards, he must look like a nightmare given flesh.

How dare this foolish ruler think they can stand up to _ him _? Like a mouse before a hawk, a lamb staring down a wolf. He watches with satisfaction as Kamoshida trembles and falls, scrambling back as his fear and despair consume him. Like two panes of glass Akira can see reality and the Metaverse overlap, the deity that is Kamoshida cowering before him just as the man does. Bulging eyes and lolling tongue in a mouthful of sharp teeth, nowhere near as sharp as his own. Wearing a mockery of royal attire, truly Kamoshida believes himself to be king of his castle. 

“P-please,” Kamoshida chokes out, “H-have mercy! Don’t--”

“Mercy…?” That had Akira pausing, staring down in disbelief down at the cowering man.

It’s so ludicrous that he snorts, shoulders shaking as chuckles build into disbelieving laughter. His multiple mouths soon join in, oozing from puddles of shadow and tar to snap open and add their laughter. The gymnasium fills with their echoing, mocking, laughter. The mouths snap the comments bouncing around in Akira’s head, disbelief mingling with mockery.

“**Did you hear that?**” 

**“Mercy!? He begs for mercy?”**

**“Oh that’s fucking rich!”**

Akira wipes at an eye and stomps forward, a snarling smile settling on his face. 

“This is not about mercy.”

Shadowy hands peel themselves from the floor in viscous shadows, latching onto Kamoshida’s feet, legs, hands, and arms. The man struggles fruitlessly and opens his mouth to scream but Akira is faster. Darting forward, he grabs Kamoshida’s face, securing his jaw and squishing his cheeks with his pointed claws. 

“This...is simply a meal.”

From behind Kamoshida a large maw slowly rises, a mouth of rippling, sharp teeth. It creaks open and bathes his prey in hot breath.

“**Itadakimasu.**”

With that Akira’s hand slips away as his mouth snaps closed, not even allowing a squeak to leave the man. Akira twists his maw to sever the head, sending a wave of hot blood down his throat. He lets the body drop to the wood floor, shadowy hands disappearing to let Akira free range to devour as much as he pleases. The stump of a neck pulses a steady stream of crimson goodness and Akira’s smaller mouths eagerly lap it up. Larger mouths descend on the limbs, sinking predatory teeth into skin and tearing muscles as easily as a knife.

While the man might be a decent meal for an eldritch being such as himself, what Akira truly needs for nourishment lies just beyond the perception of reality. Crouching low Akira flexes his claws and digs them into Kamoshida’s sternum, slicing through muscle and connective tissue. With a good grip on bone and sturdy cartilage Akira pulls in opposite directions, it takes some effort--especially in his weakened state--but eventually the man’s torso cracks open like a bloody flower. More shadowy hands rear up from the floor too pull organs and viscera out of the way, hungry mouths snatching them up with wet crunches.

There.

Carefully Akira reaches in and takes hold of the god’s essence, concentrated in an orb and occupying the same space as his heart. Akira can see golden roots winding throughout Kamoshida’s body, tying the man and the god together irreversibly in both reality and the Metaverse. The core of Kamoshida is only the size of a grapefruit, nothing large by any means and Akira suspects this man hasn’t been a god for long. 

With a quick swipe of his claws Akira cleanly separates the core from the roots. Being this close to a true meal has him drooling and Akira can’t hold back to eat neatly. He cracks open the shell of the orb, the glass-like texture shattering in his teeth but melting in his mouth. Akira brings his lips to the brittle edge and tips his head back, greedily drinking in the golden ichor, dripping thick and viscous like an egg yolk down his throat.

For the first time in what feels like eons, Akira starts to get full. The power of the god’s core courses through him and he can feel his body slowly healing itself. The wounds to his wings are the first to seal up but the arrow wounds come next and that omnipresent, dull pain finally fades.

His other mouths busy themselves devouring Kamoshida’s insides, tearing apart viscera and crunching through cartilage. 

Akira’s content to finish his meal when he hears something at the gymnasium door that makes him freeze. Hunching protectively over his meal, mouths twisting into snarls, Akira slowly turns his gaze towards the door. 

The Moon stares back at him in horror, only for a split second, before bolting.

_ Oh no_, Akira thinks to himself as he finishes the last scraps of the core, _ that’s going to cause some problems _.

~ ~ ~

Tonight was not Yuuki Mishima’s night.

First it was volleyball practice which always left him bruised and feeling like he had gone one-on-one with a meat tenderizer. Then he had done something--he can’t remember what it was--that had pissed Kamoshida off and forced him to stay late and do menial tasks. Just to make sure he was exhausted for his classes the next day. And now…?

He had just witnessed a murder.

Mishima was still having a hard time processing what exactly he had seen. He knows for a fact that he had seen Kamoshida on the ground in a pool of his own blood--even without the head Mishima recognized his outfit.

Who--or what--he had seen standing over Kamoshida was a whole different story.

Lungs burning, Mishima doesn’t bother looking back towards the gymnasium, just focuses on running through campus towards the relative safety of his dorm. 

Just remembering it made his heart leap into his throat. Mishima had stood there, dumbfounded and frozen, in the doorway as he stared. His eyes had tried to focus on the person--or monster--but it was all fuzzy. The longer he looked the more his eyes strained, a slow ringing tinnitus built up until it was all he heard. He must have made a noise because they turned to look at him with so, so many golden eyes. Their gaze felt like a physical thing, skewering him where he stood. That’s what had spurred him to run. 

His hands are shaking so bad Mishima barely manages to swipe his keycard to get into his building. Thankfully he lives alone, so he doesn’t have to explain to anyone why he rushes into his room. After the door is shut and locked--he triple checks it--Mishima leans back and slowly sinks to the ground. Wrapping his arms around himself, Mishima submits to the fear and shakes, choking out a quiet noise.

Mishima’s mind runs in anxious circles. 

_I have to go to the police. _

_With what!? That I saw something EAT Kamoshida?_

_Kamoshida was murdered and I'm a witness._

_That thing could still be out there and eat ME!_

On and on it goes, Mishima’s spiraling until he’s utterly exhausted. At that point, the only thing he cares to think about is going to sleep. As he crawls into bed and hides under the covers Mishima prays that all he saw was a volleyball-induced nightmare. One too many head injuries finally manifesting. 

He’ll go to bed, wake up tomorrow, and everything will go back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Mishima I do love you, I promise! ;w;  
Next time: Things do not go back to normal and there are consequences for Akira's actions.  
You can find me on twitter @AO3Goativa!


	11. Patience and Confrontation

Ann wakes up to a series of frantic texts from Ryuji. 

**[Ryuji]: h**

**[Ryuji]: holy**

**[Ryuji]: ANN ANN**

**[Ryuji]: A N N**

**[Ryuji]: T A K A M A K I**

**[Ryuji]: hOLY FUCK**

**[Ryuji]: Ann call me I’m freaking out**

She sits up with a frown and rubs at her eyes. It’s not even that early but it seems like Ryuji’s been up, and freaking out, for a while. Well, time to calm her fellow blonde. She hits call before crawling out of bed, meandering into the kitchen for some breakfast. 

Ryuji picks up on the first ring. He must’ve been watching and waiting for her to call.

“Ryu— ”

“Kamoshida’s fucking dead.”

Wow.

What a way to wake up. Ann’s suddenly wide awake and forgetting—almost—about breakfast. 

“Wh—WHAT!? How? Who!? First of all, how did you even find out about this?” Ann has _ so many _ questions.

“Dude! Shujin just sent out some bullshit bulletin saying that classes were cancelled this week due to the disappearance of Kamoshida! They’re asking for tips or some shit.” Ryuji’s talking a mile a minute and Ann can hear the anxiety running high in his voice. Is he pacing? Because Ann’s definitely pacing now.

“But that’s not all.”

Ann stops pacing; Ryuji suddenly sounds extra serious.

“The police are opening a case into all the sexual harassment that’s been happening. There’s people interviewing students on the news!”

Ann holds the phone away from her face just to do a double-take.

“...and they’re thinking that maybe that bastard bolted when Shiho tried to commit suicide.” Oh, Ryuji had still been talking.

“No. That prick wouldn’t have cared.” Ann cuts through Ryuji’s rambling. “Why do you think he’s dead?” She hesitantly asks.

“Gut feeling,” Ryuji says and Ann can perfectly picture in her mind’s eye the shrug that Ryuji does. “Like you said, he doesn’t care about hurting anyone as long as he gets his way. But there’s something else. Some people are saying that there’s blood in the gym. A lot of it.”

Instantly, Ann thinks of the weird conversation she had with Akira.

_ “I wish he’d just—just—” _

_ “Disappear?” _

_ “Right, as if that would ever happen.” _

_ “You never know...” _

Ann takes a breath. “Have you seen Akira recently?”

There’s a long pause before Ryuji answers, “Why?”

That’s not a no. “I want to talk to him. He said something before this happened and I...just want to get some things cleared up.”

“...I wanna talk to him too. I’ve got his number. When are you free?”

“Well, seeing as classes are canceled for a while,” Ann reaches for the chocolate cereal, she has a feeling she’s going to need a special treat today, “I’ve pretty much got an open schedule.”

And so Ann and Ryuji make plans, hoping to get some answers, but then why was Ann feeling so unsettled? Why does it feel like she’s swallowed a giant stone, a heavy foreboding weight deep inside her.

~ ~ ~

Futaba had been pestering Sojiro for a few days, insisting that there was something up in Leblanc’s attic. Sojiro knew the place was bugged, wired up with Futaba’s little devices, but he didn’t see why Futaba was so demanding in finding out what it was. Probably just some alley cat that had snuck inside, those windows were old anyway. One didn’t even lock properly.

He doesn’t do anything about it until he hears it himself, a soft creak from upstairs as he’s finishing up closing the cafe. Letting out a long-suffering sigh Sojiro takes his broom and starts to head upstairs, might as well take care of it while he’s here. Creeping up the stairs, Sojiro expects to have to see a wayward cat out of the attic. What he gets instead is a kid halfway up one of the shelves.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, kid!?” Sojiro yells, brandishing the broom like a weapon. 

He doesn’t expect the kid to whip around so quickly, which is probably why he...hits him with the broom. Not very hard, but enough to make the kid lose his grip. Sojiro winces as the poor kid lands with a thud and a groan. The shelves wobble dangerously but eventually settle much to Sojiro’s relief. 

He takes a step towards the delinquent in his attic, causing the young man to immediately scramble back, grey eyes wide and...fearful? And it wasn’t the fear that came from getting caught red-handed.

Sojiro recognized that fear, it was something that he had seen in Futaba’s eyes a few times before. With a long sigh Sojiro lowers his broom and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“What...are you doing in my attic?” Sojiro says around an exhausted sigh. Who knew his “alley cat” problem would turn out to be a stow-away?

The dark-haired young man doesn’t answer, dark grey eyes warily staring up at Sojiro. 

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

Again, no answer.

Frustrated, Sojiro asks in a sarcastic tone, “You’ve got parents, don’t you?”

“No.”

Oh, fuck. Sojiro winces, rubbing the back of his neck as the kid picks himself up off the floor, crossing his arms to glare down at the floorboards. Sojiro took in the kid; with the tense line of his shoulders and his clenched hands, he almost looked like he was preparing himself for a blow.

Sojiro lets out a long, defeated breath. “Hey...have you eaten dinner yet?”

Grey eyes flick up to give the older man a wary look.

Sojiro’s dealt with fickle alley cats before, so he turns around and starts to walk away like he doesn’t truly care. 

“I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge downstairs. I _ was _ going toss ‘em,” a lie, he would’ve taken them home to eat later. “But I might as well feed you. It’s better than wasting good food.”

As he starts down the stairs, he keeps an ear out and sure enough he hears tentative steps follow behind him. He’s afraid the kid will bolt if he looks back at him so Sojiro busies himself with getting the leftover curry and rice out to reheat in the microwave. 

“So, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’.” Sojiro watches in his periphery as the raven-haired kid slowly slides into a barstool. 

“Akira.” 

Finally, Sojiro turns to look at him. “I’m Sojiro Sakura. Nice to meet you, I think.”

That pulls a quiet snort from Akira, “Nice to meet you too, even if you assaulted me with a broom.”

“Alright, wise-ass.” Sojiro rolls his eyes and tries to fight the twitch of his lips. When he places the plate of food in front of Akira, watching the young man devour the food ravenously. 

Sojiro finds himself at an impasse.

On the one hand, Akira had essentially broken into his attic and he has no idea if he’s some kind of delinquent. But on the other hand, Akira had admitted to being an orphan and his body language wasn’t one of an aggressor. He reminded Sojiro too much of Futaba for him to throw Akira out.

“Alright, look.” Sojiro eventually says after watching Akira chase around the last lingering pieces of rice with a spoon. He looks ready to pick up the plate and start licking it. “You can stay here, as long as you don’t cause any trouble,” Sojiro says in a gruff tone. “I’ve got some rules. No coming down and bothering customers, no bringing lowlifes in with you, clean up after yourself, and help clean up during closing.”

Akira’s nose scrunches up and his face borders on a pout as he glares at Sojiro. 

“If you don’t like it you can leave,” Sojiro says with a shrug, going for the tough love approach even if he really didn’t want to kick this kid out. He only looks a few years older than Futaba. Tokyo would chew this kid up and spit him out.

Akira tries to stare Sojiro down but he’s dealt with far scarier people. He can handle some grumpy punk college kid. 

“Fine,” Akira eventually huffs and breaks their little staring contest. Sojiro nods and turns away, he thinks he hears the kid grumble something along the lines of _ “stubborn Hierophant,” _but he just chalks that up to some modern reference he doesn’t understand. Maybe he’ll have to ask Futaba about it later.

“Alright.” Sojiro dons his hat after hanging up his apron, “Your only chore of the night is to clean up your dinner, you’re lucky I already closed up before I found you or I would’ve had you mop the place.” Sojiro nods to the sink, “Think you can handle a plate?”

Oh good, that glare is back in full force. This time stubborn and flaring with rebellious intent, “I think I can do that, Mister Sakura.” He practically spits the name as he stands and marches to the sink.

Sojiro hides a smirk as he turns away. Teenagers weren’t so difficult once you found out how to push their buttons.

~ ~ ~

Akira, objectively, knows he was played just a few minutes ago. Still when Sojiro had implied that he couldn’t do something, that rebellious aspect of himself had reared its head and bared its teeth. Determined to give a resounding FUCK YOU to that sentiment. Was he so easy to read? That was kind of embarrassing. 

Akira was a vast Eldritch horror made of teeth and eyes and darkness! He shouldn’t be so easily played by an old gentleman with clever words and a derisive sigh. 

But drag a bow across him and call Akira a violin because he was just _ played _.

Akira grumbles and flops around on his makeshift bed. He’d found a dusty old futon among the piles of storage up in this attic and while it wasn’t the most lavish of beds it certainly beat curling up on the top shelf. At least now he didn’t have to sneak out the window.

Oh, he was still going to do it. He just didn’t _ have _ to anymore. Now it was purely for the fun of it.

Akira was relieved that Sojiro didn’t kick him out. It was only in the quiet of the evening that the cosmic deity could admit it to himself. He’s started growing attached to this little attic even though he’s only been here for about a week. Since his old Palace collapsed Akira didn’t have a place to call his own. Although that place had become his mausoleum instead of a home it had been undeniably Akira’s. There was something about having a little scrap that was purely his again that gave Akira a bit of stability that he didn’t think he needed. 

Even monsters need a home, Akira thinks as he looks out into the night, watching the lights in the neighbor’s home turn off one by one.

The chaos here was lower compared to the main city but it still hummed in the background, like someone playing music in another room. Muffled yet a comforting presence.

Speaking of comforting presences Akira thinks of his new friends, Ryuji and Ann. They’ve been quiet since Shujin closed classes for the week. Maybe they were still processing the news?

Akira finds himself craving their company.

It’s late into the night when he hears his phone ping, eyes lighting up because there is only _ one _ human who has his number.

**[Ryuji]: Yo**

**[Ryuji]: Dude can we meet up?**

**[Ryuji]: Me n Ann wanna talk**

Akira’s too happy to hear from Ryuji again to pay attention to how ominous the texts sound so he sends off a few happy texts and they settle on tomorrow around noon. Happy to finally meet up with his friend again that loneliness lingering on the periphery of his mind ebbs away. Bundling himself in a little quilt Akira tucks himself in for a good night’s rest.

~ ~ ~

Ann paces the school rooftop while Ryuji’s foot bounces. 

“Ann, would you relax? You’re making me nervous!”

She twirls around and gives him an accusatory look, “I’m making _ you _ nervous!? You’re the one to talk with your bouncy foot. Plus, what if someone catches us up here?”

Ryuji stops bouncing his foot and leans forward, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, this building wasn’t even locked. Nobody’s on campus to catch us up here anyway. So just sit tight ‘cause you’re gonna wear a hole in the roof.”

Ann crosses her arms and sits herself down on the old desk. Nothing but Ryuji and the plants to keep her company before Akira shows up. They’d already come up with a game plan of confronting Akira, trying to get to see if he knew anything about Kamoshida’s disappearance and probable murder.

It was probably a coincidence. People say things to comfort others all the time. What were the odds that some random guy was able to make Kamoshida disappear like that?

But then again…what if he did know something? Or worse, what if he was involved?

Ann was conflicted about that. Especially after sitting at Shiho’s side until she woke up at the hospital. She hadn’t hit her head or broken something important, thank God, but she would have to stay at the hospital for some time. 

Ann just thinks about that day and shudders. So many things could’ve gone wrong and she doesn’t want to think about those “what if”s. Just talking with Shiho had brought out all sorts of mixed feelings. Despair, outrage, self-loathing. 

Was she glad Kamoshida was missing? Absolutely.

But what if he was murdered? Would she still be as happy…? That one was a little more difficult to answer.

The sound of the door opening pulls Ann out of her thoughts and up to Akira. He looks so inconspicuous, big glasses glinting in the sun partially hidden under messy black curls. Akira looks genuinely happy to see them which makes Ann a little bad about what they’re about to do.

“Hey Akira,” Ryuji greets but even Ann can tell that it’s not as enthusiastic as usual. Akira must catch on too because his eager gate slows to something more cautious. 

“Hi,” Akira greets and nods both to Ann and Ryuji, “What’s going on…?”

Straight to the point, no beating around the bush. Seems like Akira doesn’t have any time for bullshit today.

Good, neither does Ann.

“Did you have anything to do with Kamoshida’s murder?”

Akira blinks and rears back a little at the accusation, wide grey eyes stare at Ann for a few moments before they grow hard and icy. Eyes are the windows to the soul and Ann feels like a curtain was drawn over Akria’s.

“What will you do if my answer is ‘yes’?”

That’s as damning as a “Yes”. Ann stares at Akira with wide blue eyes while she hears Ryuji in the background whisper-yell “_ I FUCKING KNEW IT! _”

There are two questions bouncing around Ann’s mind, each one vying to escape but both--at their core--are the same.

“Why…? Did you do it for Shiho?”

The silence hangs heavy between the three.

“No.”

“Wh—what!?” Ann chokes out, taking a hesitant step away. Dull grey eyes look through her, impassive and shuttered.

“I didn’t do it for anyone else, just for myself. What I did wasn’t about revenge, justice, or some other lofty ideal. I did it because...” Akira hesitates before pressing on, “I was _ hungry _.”

Ann can’t take it anymore, she shoves past Akira and through the doorway to the roof. Away from that monster. She distantly hears Ryuji calling for her but she leaves him behind. She needs to see Shiho.

Ryuji lets his hand drop from where he’s reached out to try and stop Ann, she’s long gone by now. Turning to his friend, Ryuji sees him looking away and playing with his curls. Akira’s oozed confidence in almost every interaction he’s had with the guy and to see him so nervous was new.

“Hey man...” Akira stills and Ryuji rubs the back of his neck.

What to do with this information?

“So. Are you like—Batman? Oh! Or the Joker, or something?” 

Akira turns and stares at Ryuji like he’s grown a second head then his lips crack into an incredulous but fond smile. Perfect, that’s exactly what Ryuji was going for. 

“No, I’m not. Not at all—You’re not afraid? I’m sure you’ve got questions...” Akira says and takes a hesitant step closer. The cat analogy pops up in Ryuji’s head again. A wary stray cat looking over the hand offered to pet it.

“Well. Let me put it this way, you just got rid of the biggest bastard in my entire life. Hell, he’s the reason my leg is all busted up and my mom is struggling to help me through university. And to have him gone? To not worry about that asshole making my life a living nightmare?” Ryuji’s face stretches into a grin. “I ain’t tellin’ nobody nothing.”

The blonde steps up to Akira’s side and jostles their shoulders together. Just like that the cold curtains in Akira’s eyes part, leaving them a whole lot softer. 

“Okay, so when you said you were hungry...what did you mean? Was that literal?” Ryuji asks as he leads the way out of the building and off the technically closed campus.

”Absolutely.” Akira bares his teeth in a grin, his teeth a little sharper than they should be. He tucks them away as they start to mingle with the crowd of Tokyo.

“Dude that is nasty!” Ryuji scrunches up his nose but then leans in close with a morbid sort of curiosity. “Did he—uh, taste good?”

Akira simply hums and shrugs, a shit-eating smile on his face as Ryuji groans and shoves his shoulder. 

“Aw what! That’s not fair. C’mon dude you have to tell me!” 

Nobody pays them any mind as the pair make their way towards the station square, there are more important things to worry about. Akira wraps himself in the chaos of Tokyo’s humanity and lets out a content sigh.

“I don’t _ have _ to tell you anything, frankly I like watching you squirm.” Akira quips and looks at his pouting friend out of the corner of his eye. 

They make their way onto the train, Ryuji grousing and grumbling at Akira for keeping secrets. Akira’s just happy that Ryuji hadn’t left him, even if the blonde had every right to. 

As Akira casts one last glance out over the crowd, just as the door is closing, he sees a pair of the most captivating, deep red eyes. 

_ Hello again, Justice _, Akira thinks as he looks into those shocked eyes. 

With just one finger he tugs his glasses down his nose, peering at the young man with golden, inhuman eyes. Taunting, challenging, and with a devilish smile Akira watches those eyes turn sharp and fiery with impotent rage. Oh, he’s very good at keeping that mask on but Akira can see the fury in the details; the way his gloved hands tighten on his book, the miniscule twitch of lips that threatens to morph into a snarl.

_ Catch me if you can. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but I've finally managed to finish this chapter! I'm pretty happy with how this turned out, even if it feels a bit like a lull. But oh, I'm even more excited to get working on the next chapter.
> 
> Next time: Ann and Shiho have a chat, Yusuke and Goro get an unexpected visitor.
> 
> Feel free to find me on twitter @AO3Goativa


	12. Unwanted Guests

Goro rides the train home with an aura of pure, unadulterated rage. 

Even with his face carefully neutral his tumultuous emotions must be felt by others. A tangible wall between himself and the other commuters, Goro doesn’t even get stopped for photos as he storms out of the train. First there was the last-minute call to visit a crime scene on Shujin University’s campus. It threw his afternoon plans into disarray. Not only was it a hike, with a train exchange in the middle, but then…

Then  _ he _ appeared.

The bastard that had showed up in his haunting dream weeks ago. While Goro hadn’t been plagued by nightmares he had been plagued with questions. Gnawing questions that refused to leave his mind as he stared up at his ceiling in the dead of night. The man was just there, just out of reach, with his jet-black curls and inhuman golden eyes that Goro could never forget.

He was there, then gone again. In an instant the only person who could answer Goro’s questions had slipped through his fingers. It burned Goro up inside, filling him with a fury he hadn’t felt in a long while. 

The crime scene at Shujin academy hadn’t provided any answers. Despite a bloodstain that had soaked into the wood of the gymnasium the crime scene was devoid of fingerprints, even the victim’s. While Goro wasn’t entirely sure that there was a connection between the attack and the mysterious, possibly inhuman man he had seen on the train, the raven-haired stranger was wearing a Shujin uniform. At the very least, Goro could track the young man down and interrogate him. It was better than what the current investigators had—which was absolutely nothing. But for now Goro said nothing to the cops.

All Goro wanted to do was go back home and decompress. Maybe make an attempt to release his built-up rage and, if he was lucky, the brunette could relax. Unfortunately, the sight that greeted Goro once he opened the door to his shared apartment was nothing less than pure chaos.

“Kitagawa.” Goro says in a hard, yet tired tone, “What fresh Hell is this?”

It looks like an artistic explosion had gone off in their living room. Ah, Goro thinks to himself with barely tempered anger, Yusuke’s inspiration strikes again. He can see his roommate standing at an easel with a canvas, tapping his bottom lip with the end of a paintbrush. Setting aside his briefcase the young detective massages his temples and takes a long, calming breath. 

It’s fine.

Goro turns towards the kitchen to try and scavenge for something to eat. That’s when he sees cups upon cups of murky, swirling paint water and filthy brushes sitting in their sink.

It’s very suddenly not fine.

“Kitagawa.” Goro says with a saccharine tone and a sweet smile. Stepping into the chaos of their living room, over scattered papers with half-finished sketches, Goro calls out again but louder. 

“ **Yusuke.** ” Irritation slowly seeping past his smile.

The artist stills and turns to look at Goro, blinking out of what single-minded concentration had taken over him. “Ah, you’re home.”

There’s a pause.

“Yusuke, what’s the rule about the kitchen sink?”

“No paints where food goes.” Yusuke straightens up, as if proud that he remembered one of the few rules in the kitchen. Goro takes another deep, calming breath.

“Then what’s in the kitchen sink right now?” Goro grits his teeth through his smile, watching Yusuke process his words before it finally clicks. 

Without another word Yusuke sets his brushes aside and waltzes into the kitchen, dumping the water down the sinks before he rushes to his own bathroom to clean out the cups and brushes. Goro is simply exhausted, only grunting when he hears Yusuke’s distant apology from his bathroom. 

Today has been a lot. The urge to climb into bed and call the whole day off is strong.

Then, there’s a knock at their door.

Goro considers not answering. He glares at the door as if he could make the intruder go away by sheer force of will. But with another knock on their door Goro’s hope of developing supernatural powers is dashed. He stands and tries to take a calming breath. Surely, it’ll be nothing. Perhaps a neighbor, or a mailman trying to deliver a package? It’s a ridiculously optimistic thought.

When Goro opens the door and sees the aged face of Yusuke’s old teacher and caretaker Ichiryusai Madarame, it takes all of Goro’s willpower to maintain his pleasant mask and not slam the door in the old man’s face.

“Ah, Madarame.” Goro greets in a false cheerful voice, his smile as sweet as a spider’s bite. “Kitagawa didn’t mention you were going to visit, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Goro doesn’t move from the door, barring the older artist from entering their apartment. He wasn’t going to let this slimy old bastard inside unless it was absolutely necessary. Maybe he can get away with turning Madarame away and Yusuke wouldn’t be the wiser? 

“Akechi…?”

God damn it.

Goro looks over his shoulder to see Yusuke drying his brushes in the living room, peering at Goro in confusion and stepping closer to see who was at the door. Well, there goes the idea of this meeting being quick. 

“We have…a guest.” An utterly unwanted guest. An intruder, really.

“Yusuke.” Madarame tries to peer over Goro’s shoulder to get a better look at his former pupil. Goro doesn’t give the old man an inch. He can tell by the quiet inhale that Yusuke was not expecting Madarame. In the past, Yusuke had opened up a little bit to Goro about his life in the atelier. It had been a sickening, reassuring sensation when he could pick out parts of his own childhood that had been so similar to Yusuke’s experiences. 

The sad comfort in bonding over their past traumas and abuse is what brought them together.

Both of them had worked hard to escape those lives, out from under the thumbs of oppressive parental figures. Now here Madarame was, no doubt trying to get Yusuke back into his good graces. 

Goro’s ready to damn all societal norms when his roommate says, “Let him in.” Yusuke doesn’t sound too confident in himself but the artist’s words don’t shake. 

With great reluctance Goro steps to the side and provides a path for the old man to enter their apartment. The detective doesn’t leave the pair alone, even as Madarame gives him significant looks. Goro stands in silent solidarity with Yusuke, arms crossed with a neutral look on his face. 

“Madrame. Why are you here?” 

Thank God Yusuke wasn’t calling the man “sensei” anymore, Goro thinks with immense relief. He also appreciates Yusuke ignoring small talk and other little pleasantries. The sooner they have answers, the sooner Madarame gets to leave their apartment. 

The older artist clears his throat. “I come to you, my star pupil, to ask for your assistance. I find myself plagued with horrible artist’s block, without a new piece for a gallery exhibition. Without new art, I won’t have the funds to continue paying for my home.” Madarame looks like the picture of a downtrodden, old gentleman. “So I come to you, hat in hand, and ask for you to generously donate one of your pieces to me.”

Yusuke looks stunned and Goro is right there with him, barely able to keep his jaw from dropping. 

“You were like a son to me, as I took you and your mother in and continued to raise you after she passed. I fostered your artistic skills and now you’re on the path to become a prestigious artist. A single piece is a small repayment for all that I’ve given you.”

Goro sees red as he reads between the lines of the old bastard’s words.

_ You owe me. _

Goro looks over to Yusuke and finds the young artist staring at Madarame, a mixture of fear and confusing flickering in his dark eyes. He…can’t seriously be considering Madarame’s request, can he!? Goro’s anger returns as he sees the old bastard looking expectantly at Yusuke. 

“Madarame.” Goro says in his most saccharine interview tone. “Kitagawa needs some time to think about your offer. Surely you wouldn’t want his grades to fall? His scholarship depends on his continued success.”

Madarame’s expression minutely sours but he’s been through enough interviews to hide it quickly. Goro has been through enough interviews to catch it. 

“Very well, I’ll give you a few days to consider it.” 

Don’t disappoint me, the unsaid words hang between them as the older artist stands and makes his way out of the apartment.

When the door closes and after Goro rushes to lock it behind their unwanted guest, the brunette lets out a long sigh. That’s it, fuck this day, Goro is absolutely done with it. He closes his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair, not wanting to deal with Madarame’s bullshit today. But still he has to wonder with anxiety curling in his stomach: is Yusuke going to give Madarame what he wants?

Goro lifts his head and looks at Yusuke. His roommate was never good at hiding his emotions. That paired with Goro’s eyes for detail and analysis tells the young detective that Yusuke is intensely uncomfortable and conflicted. Yusuke’s scars from the years of gaslighting and abuse from Madarame are plain for him to see in his tumultuous dark eyes. 

“He…he’s right, Madarame did raise me. I don’t know what would have happened to my mother and I if he hadn’t taken us in.” Yusuke’s words are quiet and unsure, more like he was talking to himself than to Goro. The brunette can practically hear that tiny, insidious voice murmuring things like: “You’d be dead in the street if it wasn’t for him, helping to raise you wasn’t easy…” 

Goro isn’t all that great at comfort but he is good at being the voice of reason, he knows he has to say something before the young artist spirals and convinces himself that he has to help Madarame.

“He might have raised you, but you don’t owe Madarame anything.” Goro says firmly, trying to get Yusuke to shake off his old teacher’s hold on him. Still he can see the torment plain on Yusuke’s face, it’s not enough to truly sway him away from the abusive artist. “A good parent doesn’t raise you then come back seeking compensation. You’re not a monetary investment.”

Goro hasn’t had a lot of experience with good parents but he knows a bad guardian when he sees one. 

That last statement at least seems to get through to his roommate. Yusuke looks less conflicted and more thoughtful, the clouds of indecision in his eyes slowly dissipating. 

“I’m going to go for a walk.” Yusuke says suddenly, standing from the couch and makes his way to the door, giving Goro a farewell nod before he leaves. It’s not uncommon for Yusuke to get outside in search of inspiration or to simply find some relief from whatever troubled him.

Goro can only hope the fresh air helps clear Yusuke’s mind.

~ ~ ~

Ann sat at Shiho’s bedside, hands clenching and unclenching on her skirt. On the one hand she was intensely grateful that Shiho had made a swift recovery. No brain or spinal damage, just a broken ankle and some deep-tissue bruising up her leg. The doctors had said it was a miracle that Shiho wasn’t in a coma after falling from a height like that but Ann knew that there was something much more to it. Akira’s interference, whatever he had done, extended to her friend as well.

But…what does she say now? Now that Shiho was awake and aware what does Ann say? Some kind of friend she was, not even noticing what Kamoshida was doing to her best friend. It should have been obvious. Maybe Ann didn’t want to look too hard, her own cowardice keeping her from truly looking into what was happening to Shiho.

“Ann—” 

“Shiho—” 

The pair try to speak at the same time, only to end up quietly laughing after they talk over each other.

“It’s okay, you first.” Ann nods and offers Shiho a kind smile. There are dark circles under Shiho’s eyes and the hospital bed makes her look small, but she still manages a brave face just for Ann. 

“Thanks for seeing me after…you know…everything.” Shiho looks down to the sheet and fidgets with a stray string. “I guess I didn’t know how to bring it up until it was too late.”

Ann shakes her head and scoots her plastic chair closer, bright blue eyes wide and sympathetic. “No, I should have asked about it! I shouldn’t have accepted your ‘I’m fine’ when you clearly weren’t. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” 

“I…” Shiho chews her lower lip, looking away from Ann. She can see the anxiety lingering in the tense line of Shiho’s shoulders. 

“I don’t think I would’ve said anything even if you tried. What could I have said? What could you have done? People already knew about what he was doing and they did nothing.” Shiho swallows and takes a breath; the words were clearly hard for her to say. “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

Oh, Ann wanted to cry and hold Shiho close. It felt like her heart was twisting and clenching in her chest like it was someone’s plaything. She sniffles and looks away to wipe at her eyes. Damn it she doesn’t need to be crying right now. Shiho needs comfort, not her!

“You’re never a burden Shiho! You could call me up at 2am to talk about your anxieties or even some TV drama and I’d listen. You can talk to me about  _ anything _ and I’d want to be there for you. Listening to you—your worries and your hurt is never going to be a burden.”

Shiho’s dark eyes are wide and Ann can feel her entire face heating up, turning a bright shade of pink. But like Hell was she going to take back something so true. 

Crossing her arms, Ann’s cheeks puff out and she grumbles. “So—so don’t you dare hide your hurt anymore. I care about you.”

Shiho stares at Ann for a few beats of silence before her beautifully dark eyes warm and a small, fragile smile appears on her tired face. 

“I won’t, not anymore.”

It’s such a nice moment and Ann wants to linger in it for a while longer. Ann doesn’t want to destroy the warmth that’s slowly bloomed between them. But…Shiho deserves to know about what happened to her tormentor. The conflict must show in her eyes—Ann knows she’s never been good at hiding her emotions from Shiho—because her friend’s smile dims into a frown. 

Shiho waits, eyes expectant until Ann finally takes a breath.

“Kamoshida’s missing.”

Ann can’t track all the emotions that flash across Shiho’s face. It’s a complicated mix but she can see confusion and hesitant relief. 

“Oh.” Such a simple, weighty word.

“It’s mostly rumors, but some people say he’s dead. One thing we all know for sure is that the police have been to Shujin. Campus is closed for a few weeks.”

Shiho takes this new information and leans back against the pillows in her hospital bed, closing her eyes and taking a long breath. Is she still processing her emotions? Ann isn’t sure but she knows that in her own mind it’s still a little jumbled.

“He was a coward,” Ann says with quiet anger, “Disappearing before justice could see to him.”

“Would he…?” Shiho whispers, opening her eyes to stare up at the bland hospital ceiling. “Would justice have been served to Kamoshida? A man…who was well-respected, with a reputation and a gold medal to back it up?” Shiho’s face twists, “Would he have actually gone to prison? Or worse…” Ann watches her hands shake and bunch up in the sheets. “Would he have gotten out and came back?”

Wide blue eyes stare at Shiho as Ann realizes that, perhaps, Shiho was right. She shakes her head, sending her ponytails flailing and almost smacking herself in the face with her blonde locks.

“But—but what about a trial? If he was arrested then…” Ann trails off because how can she say what she’s thinking without sounding incredibly selfish. She doesn’t want Kamoshida dead, there’s things far worse than death. Ann wanted Kamoshida alive just so she could watch his face as his entire career crumbled at his feet and he was jailed.

But…there wasn’t a guarantee that he would go to jail. And even then, would he be jailed for long? What would happen if Kamoshida only got a few years then was back out on the streets?

“At least now he’s dead and gone.” Shiho’s soft voice breaks through the questions swirling in Ann’s head. Ann blinks and frowns, opening her mouth for a second before Shiho shakes her head.

“You’re not a good liar Ann.” She points out with a weak smile, “And if you didn’t lie, I know you’re trying to protect me. I can connect the dots…there’s something else going on.” 

Ann pouts because she thought she had done a pretty good job trying to hide that there were some grizzly details she wasn’t telling her friend. But…maybe she should give Shiho more credit. She wasn’t dumb, and they had known each other for a long time.

“And if he’s really gone…I can get a little comfort knowing that he won’t be able to do anything else to the girls at Shujin. At least now, I won’t have nightmares about him coming back for me. I’ll just…you know…have nightmares about what happened.”

Ann swallows back a sniffle and reaches for Shiho’s hand, her heart does a tender little flutter when she sees Shiho reaching back—only for the moment to be broken by a knock at the door.

The knock is so surprising it makes both Ann and Shiho jump, Ann yanking her hand back and Shiho straightening her back. A woman sticks her head in, with round, orange-tinted glasses perched atop a bob haircut.

“Aha! Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” She says with a jovial smile, waving her hand as she lingers in the doorway. “But I was looking really suspicious just hanging out in a hospital hallway there, so I thought I’d pop in.”

Ann gives Shiho a look, only to receive a small shake of her head in return. Shiho wasn’t expecting anyone else today.

“Who’re you?” Ann asks, already feeling protectiveness well up inside her.

“Well…I’m a journalist.” She admits and Ann immediately bristles, ready to stand and chase this lady out of the room. Hell, even the whole hospital for daring to try and go all paparazzi on her friend. Seeing the look in Ann’s eyes, the woman rushes in to explain.

“My name is Ichiko Ohya! Yeah, I write the drama columns and gossip corners in the newspapers that’s not what this is about.” Ohya’s dark eyes grow serious and the smile falls from her bright red lips. “I’m doing my own investigation into Suguru Kamoshida. You will remain anonymous, as well as anyone else I talk to. Can you tell me more about what happened in Shujin Academy?”

~ ~ ~

When Ann leaves the hospital, there’s a mixture of apprehension and hope in her heart. She was there for the whole interview, not wanting to leave Shiho alone with the journalist despite her repeated assurances that she was NOT paparazzi. After Ohya left to, “chase down another lead,” their conversation drifted into more normal topics. Eventually Ann had to go, but she felt better seeing that smile on Shiho’s face. 

But now…she had to make a decision. Riding on the train she pulls out her phone and open’s her chat with Ryuji. It’s been days. They hadn’t spoken since that fateful day on the roof of Shujin. Her conversation with Shiho had given her a lot to think about. Ann thinks she’s ready to speak to them again.

She isn’t angry at Akira anymore. Their confrontation on the roof had left her with a storm of swirling, tumultuous emotions. She had wanted Kamoshida to be arrested and tried for his crimes, hung out for all to see, and locked away forever. But…Shiho brought up a lot of good points. The thought of that slimeball, bastard of a professor getting away with it and denying everything sends a shiver down her spine. She isn’t…happy, per se. But maybe she’s accepted it. At least Shiho feels better off without Kamoshida in the picture. If that journalist is actually as good as she says she is then his name can at least be attached to his crimes.

With that in mind, she types out a message to her friend.

**[Ann]: Hey Ryuji**

**[Ryuji]: Yo**

She winces. It was such a curt reply in comparison to what she would usually get from her bombastic blonde. But Ann holds out hope, he didn’t immediately ignore her so maybe he’s willing to talk too. 

**[Ann]: Can we talk? Wanna see you guys again**

**[Ryuji]: And by “you guys” you mean…?**

Ann rolls her eyes and huffs. What, was he trying to play coy or something? 

**[Ann]: You A N D Akira**

**[Ann]: Look.**

**[Ann]: This convo is important and I don’t wanna have it over text**

There’s a long pause before…

**[Ryuji]: Are you mad?**

**[Ann]: No you idiot**

**[Ryuji]: Great!!! Meet us at the diner on central street!**

With that Ryuji drops the address into their chat without another word, seemingly happy to see her again. As for Akira…she had no idea.

It turns out to be a cuter place than Ann anticipated, a diner tucked away in the bustling central street. She spots a familiar head of blonde hair in the back, jostling a head of fluffy curls. Honestly, does Akira ever brush his hair?

The pair quiet down as she plunks herself down in front of them, Ryuji looking far more hesitant than Akira. The other young man gives nothing away, eyes blank and aloof.

“I’ve got some questions.” She says firmly, staring into Akira’s eyes. Even if Ann isn’t the most book-smart she’s pretty good at reading people. Everyone says they’re windows into the soul but Ann isn’t sure how true that really is, Akira is difficult to read.

_ “Sheesh, an interrogation right outta the gate.” _ Ryuji grumbles and crosses his arms. Ann ignores him.

“I visited Shiho at the hospital earlier today.” It’s only because she’s staring so intently at Akira that she catches a flicker of interest. “She’s up and talking. In fact, the doctors say it’s a miracle that she isn’t more hurt. But there wasn’t anyone else around when she jumped…was that you? Who helped save her?”

“Saved…? She’s still in the hospital, I wouldn’t count that as saving. She still got hurt.” Akira murmurs hesitantly, but Ann mentally begs him to continue. Ann can see the little slivers of conflict peeking through his wall. The weighing of whether or not he should tell her everything. He looks into her eyes, as if searching for something too, before the wall starts to slowly crumble.

“I…was up there, on the roof, when she tried to commit suicide. I didn’t know why I tried to save her at first. When she fell, I jumped after her. Not a second thought. But when I saw her face—her eyes—they were filled with hopelessness. But also a look that said…she didn’t want to die.” Akira looks away and scratches at the table. “I understood her. And I didn’t want her to die either.”

The next thing both touches and perplexes her.

“Nobody deserves to have their flames of rebellion snuffed out so cruelly.”

Even Ryuji seems stunned into silence at Akira’s words. 

“Dude…is that why, when I found you, you were all fucked up?”

Akira nods, still not looking at either of them, “When I fell, I twisted so she didn’t take the brunt of the fall.”

Ann has to process all this. The fact that Akira got hurt so he could spare Shiho some pain was helping her piece together a better picture. It made sense. Ann remembers seeing…something strange when Shiho fell. But at the time she was too worried about her friend’s wellbeing to care. 

“When we talked before, you said something about being  _ hungry _ . Was that the only reason you chose to go after Kamoshida?”

She doesn’t understand what hunger has anything to do with destroying a man like Kamoshida but she has to know Akira’s real reasoning. Again, that conflicted—and this time slightly worried—look appears in Akira’s eyes.

“At first…yeah, the only reason I went after Kamoshida is because I was literally starving. I hadn’t eaten in ages. But the more I learned about what was going on in Shujin the more…appealing prey he became.” Akira’s voice gets whisper-quiet and deadly serious. “You guys have to understand, I’m not human. What sustains me isn’t the food you guys eat, it’s something else entirely. Sure, I could’ve gone after…easier prey. But not after I got to know you two…not after Shiho tried to commit suicide. It was, uh, a win-win? I get to make sure the man making your lives Hell ‘disappears’ and I get a meal.”

Ann reels and leans back against her booth, staring at Akira with her jaw practically on the floor. Ryuji seems less surprised to realize that Akira was…what, a monster? An alien? One that eats people?

“Prove it.” They’re the first words that fall from her lips, much to Ann’s own surprise. “Prove you’re not human.”

Akira does a double-take and Ryuji chokes on his water, causing Akira to firmly thump his back. 

“D-dude! Ain’t that kinda rude?” Ryuji wheezes.

But Ann can’t accept Akira’s words about eating and prey just yet. He speaks like these are normal concepts—like he’s an animal. That’s what animals do in those nature documentaries, stalk their prey before killing them. But…Akira looks human. Just an average guy with ruffled, curly hair and dark eyes. Honestly, it would be easy to lose him in a crowd since he doesn’t stick out like herself or Ryuji. 

There are two options: either Akira is a crazy person or he isn’t human. Each one will give her a different kind of crisis. But thankfully she can hold off until she has answers.

“I said what I said.” Ann huffs and Ryuji stops dying from water inhalation. “Show me...” She considers threatening Akira, but she has a feeling that he just might clam up if she gets aggressive. So, instead, she tries honey instead of vinegar.

“Please?”

It seems to have worked because Akira takes a long, resigned breath. He looks away from both of them and plays with his curls. It seems to be a nervous tic. 

“I’ll…show you a little. I can’t show you everything—all that I am—without potentially hurting you. I could drive you mad, break your mind and leave you a drooling husk. It’s not worth it, I care about you two too much.”

Ann…hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t spoken to Akira much, only briefly seen him with Ryuji and had that extensive talk at the fast-food place. The confrontation on the roof didn’t really count. Had their first real conversation struck a chord with Akira? She remembers feeling an intense loneliness from him back then, did she leave that much of an impression…?

Then she watches as Akira reaches up and takes off his glasses. Dark silver is replaced with gold, faintly glowing in the low light of the café.

Ann watches as the café around Akira begins to ripple, distorting the air like a mirage. Shadows twitch and sway on the floors, walls, and ceilings. Slowly but surely the darkness begins the swallow up the light in their tucked-away corner of the café. She swears that she can see teeth along the edges of the dimming lights. 

Then, Ann looks at Akira.

**“Yeah, I know I’m not pretty.”** Akira’s voice echoes both in her head and in her ears, making them ring painfully. 

But it’s not the odd, melodic tones of his voice that have her heart nearly stopping…it’s the sight of him. 

Akira looks monstrous. Ann’s bright blue eyes are wide as she tries to process what she is seeing. It looks like something has carved out an Akira-shaped hole in the world, leaving only a gaping abyss in his place. His golden eyes remain where they should be…until a few more blink open along his chest. A gnarled, toothy maw opens up, white teeth standing out starkly against the void. It twists in a brief grimace then, in an instant, everything is back to normal. Akira’s glasses return to hide his golden eyes and the visage of him disappears.

Ann releases a long breath and slumps back against her booth, heart hammering.

“Dude,” Ryuji groans and brings his hands to his forehead, massaging and squishing the skin, “My head hurts.”

“Yeah…the longer you’re exposed to what I truly look like, the worse it can get.” Akira is hunched in his seat, not looking at either of them. He looks like he’s bracing himself for a blow.

“Okay—so you’re not human,” Ann says faintly. Good, this means she can have an existential crisis. Time to pencil in time for that this evening.

Just saying it out loud felt ridiculous but how can she deny it when her eyes faintly pulse with an aching pain just from looking at…whatever Akira had done. Suddenly her initial feelings about Akira seeming other and an outcast made a whole lot more sense. 

Slowly but surely the gears start to turn in her head. Akira said he was starving. Since he was some otherworldly creature and ate…whatever it was inside people like Kamoshida then it wasn’t like he could just pop into the convenience store and pick one up like an onigiri. 

Sure, she isn’t happy when the wolf kills the rabbit in those nature documentaries but the wolf has to survive. It also helped that Kamoshida was no rabbit.

“I…don’t hate you.” Ann says with resolve strengthening her voice, straightening up from her slump against the booth. She watches Akira slowly perk up; eyes warily hopeful. “Honestly, I wanted Kamoshida to be dragged through the mud and his crimes aired out for everyone to see. I wanted his name to be destroyed. I wanted him locked away forever. But that didn’t happen. You robbed us of justice being served.” The hope starts to dim but Ann continues, “But! But…you gave Shiho peace—a peace that I don’t know she would’ve gotten if Kamoshida was put on trial.”

After the day she’s had it fills Ann with a sense of peace to finally air her thoughts out to Akira, who seems to grow hopeful once more. No longer shrunk back against the booth cushion. She wonders why, if Akira is some kind of creature, he would fear something as simple as disappointing a pair of humans. 

“You’re not goin’ to eat us, are ya?” 

Of course, Ryuji has to come in with a ridiculous question and shatter the serious mood. Although Ann has a feeling it’s done on purpose more times than not—people don’t give Ryuji enough credit.

Akira snorts like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Of course not,” He cracks a devilish grin, “Plus, I think the taste of bleach will make me sick.”

Ann muffles an ugly laugh behind her hand as Akira nods up to Ryuji’s hair.

With the tension broken the air around the trio settles into something more comfortable. Banter bounces between them, drinks are ordered, and for a little while Ann feels like she’s chatting with a pair of friends. Even if Akira wasn’t human, there was something about the way he had spoken with her before—back when she had dumped her problems on him in that fast food joint—that made her want to trust him. The way he spoke about caring about her and Ryuji was far from shallow. He truly did care about them.

Maybe she could give Akira a chance? 

~ ~ ~

By the time they all left that café on Central Street Akira was on cloud nine. Ann hadn’t run screaming, or even fully rejected him. He felt like he had passed her judgement and even though Akira could tell she wasn’t fully comfortable around him…their connection hadn’t snapped. There was still hope!

These two connections he made…they were incredibly important. Akira had been without any type of connection for centuries, even in his dead-yet-dreaming state their absence hurt. The last connection tethered to Akira had been violently ripped apart, such a traumatic severance left a painful scar. Even now after so long Akira could occasionally feel it throb.

But now here he was making new friends, new bonds, and perhaps healing? Maybe. It’s too soon to tell. But as he walks behind the pair of blondes, bickering where they’ll go next, Akira feels at ease. The passive chaos all around him helped rejuvenate him, the cosmic horror takes in all in with a deep breath. A few threads of his special brand of Chaos sneak away to cause some trouble. In a city as big as Tokyo, it wouldn’t be noticed.

But just as he’s truly getting comfortable, he feels a pair of eyes on him. There’s a brief moment of fear, his stomach swooping, before he realizes it’s just two eyes looking at him. No more. 

“Yo, what’s wrong?” Ryuji’s drawling voice draws his attention. 

Without realizing, Akira had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as he got lost in his own thoughts. Ann and Ryuji must have had to double back to get him. Akira just shrugs a shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I just thought that—” Akira’s reassurances are cut off as he feels a hand on his arm tug him around and away from his friend.

“You!”

Akira blinks at the sight of the young man before him. He’s a little taller than Akira with dark, intense eyes and hair that’s nearly a blue hue. 

“You’re the man of my dreams!”

Akira’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. He doesn’t hear Ann’s strangled noise and Ryuji’s confused squawk. 

The only thing on his mind is the first thing he says, “What.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this beefcake of a chapter! 2020 has been difficult but I'm proud of getting this chapter out before the end of the year.  
Stay safe everyone and happy holidays~!
> 
> Next chapter: Yusuke is...well...Yusuke. What do those artist eyes see?


End file.
